


The Other Side of Sunset

by Kitsunebi_UK



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Anxiety, Ballet, Bunkhouse, Camping, Canon homage, Cowboys, Dancing, Depression, Drama, Emotional Hurt, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, First Time, Floods blizzards heatwaves, Fluff, Gymnastics, Heavy Angst, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, Loss/grieving, Lots of cattle, M/M, Many facets of love, Mild parental abuse/neglect, Mountains, Multiple Sex Positions, Original Character(s), Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Ranches, Rodeos, Romance, Saloons, Secrets, Sickfic, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, Trick horseback riding, Victor's exes, Victor's past, Virgin Katsuki Yuuri, Wild West, lots of horses, mild violence, more food, some guns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-03 23:05:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 73
Words: 325,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12757995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsunebi_UK/pseuds/Kitsunebi_UK
Summary: 1874, Wyoming Territory: Yuuri Katsuki Taylor has got his future planned…mostly. Learn how to manage his adoptive parents’ ranch, and inherit it when he’s older. Get married and have kids (someday – not now). And most of all, carry on riding his horse with Phichit and the other ranch hands on the open range and in the mountains. But when he meets Victor Nikiforov, the striking and talented new master horseman at the neighboring ranch – and is treated to a show of his Cossack-style trick riding – his world will never be the same again…A tale of love, loss, grief, redemption, and second (and third) chances, set in the Old West.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this story is long. However, I knew where it was going when I started it, and it was posted as a finished work, planned and edited. Simply put, a lot happens! It covers a span of ten years. Fluff, angst, ‘smut’ (or loving sex, as I like to call it) – it’s all here. 
> 
> There _is_ a lot of angst in a few places. I adore Yuuri and Victor, however, and wrote this story as a homage to them and their creators. So please bear this in mind before you are perhaps tempted to stop when things get dark – you may be pleasantly surprised if you read further.
> 
> If you’re a YOI otaku, you might like to keep an eye out for references to events or things characters say in the original anime.
> 
> I welcome constructive criticism; it’s helpful for improving my writing, as there’s nothing better than reader feedback to give me an idea of how things are coming across. Please don’t go into the minutiae of historical details, however, because while I have covered some of these in my notes (e.g. Tchaikovsky’s _Sleeping Beauty_ waltz was written a tad later than when Victor hums it to Yuuri as they dance), I’ve taken a bit of artistic licence here and there. My focus is on the characters, and the setting serves them, rather than vice versa.
> 
>    
>  _Contributors_  
>  Illustrations by the wonderful Iruutciv – find her on Tumblr [here.](http://iruutciv.tumblr.com)
> 
> And heartfelt thanks to Mazarin221b for her support in the writing process – check out her extensive library of fics here on AO3 (YOI, Sherlock and others), and find her on Tumblr [here.](http://mazarin221b.tumblr.com)
> 
> _Music_  
>  Apart from the snippets of songs that I’ve quoted at the beginnings of some of the chapters (which I did because of the lyrics), there were other songs echoing around in my mind while I was writing this story. I haven’t quoted from them because the lyrics are too contemporary, or less relevant; but the music itself seems to fit with the vibe of Yuuri and Victor in the Old West. 
> 
> [Who Do You Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YbRnkmkOhsk) – George Thorogood and the Destroyers. If this story were a film, I imagine this song would be playing to open the very first scene, with close-ups and medium shots of Yuuri and the other ranch hands as they herd the cattle. And the title of the song seems fitting for Yuuri, though he doesn’t meet Victor until a little later.
> 
> Tom Waits – A chronicler _par excellence_ of the dark side of historical and modern Americana. [Get Behind the Mule](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l7yuTR8r6QM), [Cold Water.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DgwJQj2E6So)
> 
> Other suggestions (please tell me if you have some of your own!): Allman Brothers – [Ramblin’ Man,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6VxoXn-0Ezs) Creedence Clearwater Revival – [The Midnight Special,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T00eJSQimIk%E2%80%9D>The%20Midnight%20Special,) [Proud Mary](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XfyEpmQM7bw) (this fitting with the scenes in St. Louis along the Mississippi).
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _There’s nothing in the world that you can do_  
>  _Come on up to the house_  
>  _And you been whipped by the forces that are inside you_  
>  _Come on up to the house_  
>  _Well, you’re high on top of your mountain of woe_  
>  _Come on up to the house_  
>  _Well, you know you should surrender, but you can’t let go_  
>  _You gotta come on up to the house_  
>  _Come on up to the house_  
>  _Come on up to the house_  
>  _The world is not my home_  
>  _I'm just a-passin’ through_  
>  _You got to come on up to the house_
> 
>  
> 
> _Tom Waits,_ [_Come On Up to the House_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hUE-ic_Q0g4)

__

 

 _In your eyes_  
_I see the doorway to a thousand churches_  
_In your eyes_  
_The resolution of all the fruitless searches_  
_In your eyes_  
_I see the light and the heat_  
_In your eyes_  
_Oh, I want to be that complete_  
_I want to touch the light_  
_The heat I see in your eyes_

 _Peter Gabriel,_ [_In Your Eyes_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B3kFPBtc9BE)

 

**September, 1874**

**Southern Wyoming Territory**

 

The sun shone high and bright over the dust-bitten plains stretching to the horizon below, which were interrupted only by an unending jagged blue spine of mountains several miles to the west and the odd butte poking out of the baked ground. An observer on the front range, with a good pair of field glasses, might have been able to make out the distant figures moving across the empty land, which was mostly yellow and dry at the end of a long summer; though a strip of oddly incongruous green hugged the sides of a blue river that snaked past a ranch. The cattle of the Rafter T were being gathered and taken in, kept in check by men on horseback moving with the fluctuations in the herd, occasionally calling out instructions to each other. The boss’s son was among them.

Yuuri Taylor sat straight and confident in the saddle as he made his way down the edge of the herd, checking for any strays emerging. He urged his tan quarter horse into a gallop, man and animal seemingly working as one unit. His black Stetson threatened to fly off as he glided, but decided to behave when he tilted his head down slightly so that the breeze was no longer catching at the brim. He broke into a smile from the sheer pleasure of the ride – this was what he loved.      

As the hot wind gusted around him, Yuuri pulled his navy-blue bandanna over his mouth to avoid breathing in the dust kicked up by the cattle as they loped along. They were nearing the ranch now, and he reached the front of the herd, reins loosely held in his left hand and the neck of a lasso in his right, ready for use. He hadn’t attended the full roundup but had ridden out some miles to meet the men coming in, curious about the condition of the cattle, but mainly feeling like he wanted to get away from the ranch and do something useful for a while. The men had greeted him warmly enough; they were used to his presence, and Yuuri was not interested in keeping any formal social barriers between them. He veered toward one cowhand in particular and drew up alongside him, tugging his bandanna back down so that he could talk.

“Hey, Phichit. Looks like everything’s OK here.” Yuuri’s speech was generic American for these parts, but traces of an accent subtly inflected his words.

“We didn’t lose any livestock this time, at least,” the younger man replied in his own, stronger accent. He was an exotic sight to people who were not used to it – even more so than Yuuri, who was of Japanese origin, with chocolate-brown hair and eyes, and pale skin prone to blushing. Phichit Chulanont was a slim dark-skinned Siamese man, twenty years old, in cowboy togs. The eldest son of the owners of the large general store in the nearby town of Larkspur, he’d been given a job on the Rafter T a year ago when he’d decided he wanted to be a cowboy rather than follow in the family trade. He was also Yuuri’s best friend at the ranch, and was always hungry for information and gossip that he would willingly pass on to anyone who was interested – though Yuuri knew he would keep the secrets of a friend; _those_ were not to be passed on for the amusement of others.

The two of them spent a few minutes catching up on what Phichit and the other hands had been doing on the roundup, which wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, and soon they were herding the cattle into the corrals at the Rafter T. Yuuri, still mounted, was coiling his lasso when one of the new hands approached him on foot.

“I’ve heard tell you can do some cool stuff with that,” he said, looking at the lasso. “That true?”

Yuuri knew how much the men on the ranch relished a distraction from the often monotonous work they performed day in and day out, especially on days like this that made you want to do nothing but sit in the shade with a cold drink. He smiled. “Well mainly I use it for what it’s meant for, which is roping cattle. But it’s fun messing around with it sometimes too, yeah.”

“Go on, Yuuri,” one of the other men within earshot shouted in encouragement, “show ’im.” Yuuri was still reluctant, however; he wasn’t fond of giving impromptu performances in front of crowds, however small. Part of him was always afraid that he would make a mistake and be laughed at. But another part of him could sometimes overlook his many shortcomings and take pride in what he knew he could do well – which was ride a horse and use a lasso.

Phichit dismounted and stood against the corral fence nearby. When Yuuri looked at him, his friend smiled and nodded, giving him a thumbs-up. “OK,” Yuuri agreed quietly. “Maybe for a minute or two.”

He rode away from the corral a little, to where there was enough clear space to do what he wanted. Eight men, including Phichit, were leaning against the fence, watching and waiting. Yuuri took a deep breath, then patted his horse’s neck and whispered into her ear to calm her: “Let’s give them something they’ll like to look at, Biscuit. You can do this, girl.” Then he took a length of rope into his right hand and started swinging the lasso in a circle – on the right, on the left, back to the right. While continuing to do this, he gave a gentle signal with the reins, and Biscuit spun in several quick circles. She stopped on a dime, again on Yuuri’s command, and he swung the lasso over his head, always in a near-perfect circle, his arm tracing loops through the air. Then he gradually brought it down so that he was swinging it gracefully around his upper body. By now he could hear some scattered claps and cheers. Spurred on by this, he urged Biscuit into a quick trot in tight circles as the lasso continued its movements around his body, then around the horse herself. There were hoots and cheers now, and in response he stood up in the stirrups as Biscuit continued circling, whipping the lasso as fast as he could around her and then around himself again. Then he clicked his tongue and Biscuit stood stock-still once more. As he let his lasso fall to the ground, Yuuri continued to stand in the stirrups, removing his Stetson and bowing to the audience before dismounting. They clapped and hollered with an enthusiasm that made him feel slightly drunk.

“Hot damn,” said Zach Larsen, a heavily built tawny-haired cowhand, as the others gradually filtered away, Phichit with a wave and a “see you later”. “I love watchin’ you do that stuff, Yuuri. It’s like goin’ to the rodeo. You’re almost as good as Victor at the Circle C.” This was a ranch of similar size to the Rafter T a couple of miles away.

 _Almost?_ thought the part of Yuuri that was secretly proud of his lassoing skills and had gotten rather out of hand just now, drinking up the praises he’d received. “Victor?” he echoed, replacing his hat on his head and coiling his rope up. “He’s the chief horse trainer over there, isn’t he?”

“Well he’s that, and a lot more besides,” Zach said with a grin. “You ain’t met him?”

“Nah, haven’t been over to the Circle C in a while. No roundups either. He hasn’t been there more than a year, has he?”

“Came over from another ranch last August or so. You know,” he added, “he could maybe teach you a thing or two. You’re already good with horses.”

Yuuri laughed at this, unsure whether or not he should be offended. He decided Zach hadn’t meant it that way. “He must be pretty good then. I’ll have to make sure I meet him sometime.”

***

Yuuri paused on the wooden porch of the house and removed his ankle-high leather boots, leaving them next to the door before going inside in his cotton socks. It was too dry to be tracking mud around, but his parents insisted on keeping everything as pristine as it could reasonably – or unreasonably – be on a ranch. The interior was unwelcoming and austere, with a few framed old daguerreotypes and slightly more modern portraits showing various stoical-looking generations of Taylors. A grandfather clock stood nearby, its metallic ticking noises the only sounds filling front the room. Hunting trophies – deer and moose heads, mainly – were mounted on the wall. They were not to Yuuri’s taste.

He wished, not for the first time, that he could be walking into a _home_ , not just a house, that felt inviting, as if it were happy for him to be there and wanted to keep him warm (or cool) and safe. Like the one Phichit shared with his family. It was smaller than this, but there was always a merry fire crackling in the grate when the weather turned cold; and Phichit’s parents hugged Yuuri when he visited – something his own never did. For as long as he could remember, Yuuri preferred spending as much of his time as he could outside away from the house, working with the other men on the ranch as he grew up, and learning how to do most of the ordinary chores like they did.

The horses drew his attention more than anything else, and he was soon talking almost daily with their trainer, a black veteran of the Civil War called Bill Harvey. Bill was pleased with Yuuri’s enthusiasm and ended up teaching the youngster pretty much everything he knew over the years, including some trick lassoing, which Yuuri continued to practice on his own as he got older and watched what people did at rodeos. The ranch had felt like a friendlier place with Bill around, but several years ago he’d gotten married and moved away to start farming in Nebraska. He’d written to Yuuri a few times afterward, brief letters with comments like “More water here but so flat it makes your eyes hurt. Plus tornadoes.” And “Keep going with them horses, kid.” Yuuri thought about how much he still missed him as he followed the aroma of his mother’s cooking into the kitchen and sat down at the dining table.

His father Hank, a blond-haired man with graying temples and flint-colored eyes, was waiting. “There you are,” he said. “Look, I’ve been thinking about getting some more cattle moved up here from Texas to sell; price per head’s been going down pretty steady lately, and we could probably make a good deal. We’ve got some ranch hands to spare for a cattle drive and can afford to hire some more.”

Yuuri was staring at the table, lost in thought. He looked up briefly when his mother put a plate of meatloaf, mashed potatoes and peas in front of him. Spearing his food with his fork, he made noncommittal noises as his father mentioned Chicago slaughterhouses and meat-packing plants, coyotes that had taken out several cows the other day near the foothills, and a fence on the north border that needed mending, among other items of business. Yuuri either understood the way of these things already, having discussed them with Hank for years, or he’d already been apprised of them by the Carl, the foreman. But his father didn’t seem to credit him with much awareness of what went on at the ranch, let alone any acumen for how to deal with it himself, so a while ago Yuuri had decided to endure these – what were they, lectures? Announcements? – as quietly as possible, waiting until they were over and he could get back to whatever it was he wanted to do.

“Are you listening to me, son?”

“Yessir,” Yuuri answered, clearing off his plate. “It’s just that I promised Phichit I’d ride into town with him this afternoon. I can get a few of those things you’ve been needing from his parents’ store if you want, Mom,” he called over to her. She was still busying herself with cooking.

“Sure. Let me get a list together for you.”

Hank looked at him. “Why’re you planning on galavanting around town when we’ve got things that need doing here?”

“They’ll get done,” Yuuri said quietly, pushing his chair back and leaving the room.

***

Yuuri and Phichit left their horses at the central corral in the middle of town and visited several of the stores, gradually filling the leather packs slung over their shoulders, and placing orders for other things they needed that would either take time to get or make, or were too big for them to haul back to the ranch themselves. After sipping cherry sodas at the fountain in the drug store, they made their way to Phichit’s parents’ store, the Larkspur Mercantile. Phichit’s father, tending the counter, gave Yuuri the traditional _wai_ greeting of Siam, a slight bow with his palms pressed together, which Yuuri returned. Then Yuuri gave him his mother’s shopping list, which the man immediately took and bustled around with. Yuuri breathed in the familiar smells of coffee, tobacco, soap, and a hundred other things, wondering what he could treat himself to before they left.

Phichit hauled himself up to sit on top of a barrel in the dry goods section, and Yuuri did likewise. Soon Phichit was getting him up to speed with news of who was romancing or breaking up with who, the fight in the Wagon Wheel saloon the other night, how a hand at a nearby ranch had accidentally shot himself in the foot while cleaning his gun, and various other tidbits.

Yuuri took a turn to complain about his father. “He wants me to inherit the ranch, but he doesn’t seem to trust me to run it.”

Phichit hummed in understanding. “I know all about parents putting the pressure on with their business. Mine really want me to stay here and help run the store until I take it over one day. Honestly, it’s as if they think there’s nothing else in the world we might want to do. They didn’t like it when I came to work at your parents’ ranch, but at least they haven’t given me too much trouble – yet. I think maybe they’re hoping I decide I don’t like it, and give it up to come back here. But I don’t think I will. I like what I’m doing.”

“Good for you,” Yuuri said with a smile as he kicked his legs idly against his barrel.

After a pause, Phichit added, “You know, some hands from the Rafter T were over at the Circle C this morning, delivering some stuff. They told me when they got back that the horse trainer over there – Victor something-or-other – was doing some fancy riding, and they got to watch. They said he’s a real showman.”

“What’d they mean by that? What was he doing?”

“They didn’t give me any more details. But…” He leaned in conspiratorially and said in a whisper, “…word has it that this Victor was a Cossack warrior before he came to this country – you know, from the Russian army.” He waited for Yuuri’s reaction with awe in his eyes, as if Victor were the most frightening person you could meet.

Yuuri huffed a laugh at the absurd notion of such a person striding around the Circle C. “Phichit, why would a Cossack warrior want to come here to Wyoming, in the middle of nowhere?”

His friend shrugged. “Why did your parents – you know, your biological ones – and mine come? Why does anybody?”

Yuuri had to admit he had a point. He smiled wryly. “Well if he’s that fierce, I’ll make sure I stay out of his way.”

“But the thing is,” Phichit hastened to add, really warming to the topic now, “the men from the Circle C don’t seem to be afraid of him. And Zach Larsen from our ranch goes over there a lot and seems to really respect him.” He chuckled. “Maybe they all know how to stay on his good side.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri said distractedly, mulling over what the men might have meant by “fancy riding”, and increasingly intrigued by this shadowy person whom neither of them had yet met. He decided he would have to put that matter right, and soon.


	2. Chapter 2

“Soon” was not to be, however, as the following week Yuuri hardly had time to spare a thought for anything other than the work he was helping with on the ranch. Finally Saturday evening came around, and he and Phichit decided to unwind by heading for the Wagon Wheel. The sun was sinking behind the deepening purple mountains as they rode in, sending its last pink and gold rays reflecting against the scattered scraps of cloud floating lazily above. The two young men were little more than silhouettes as they arrived at the saloon and went inside.

Phichit ordered a pale beer, while Yuuri requested a darker and maltier variety that was brewed locally, and they found a table. The saloon was about half-full, yellow-bright around its wood-plank perimeter from the light of kerosene lanterns hanging from the eponymous wagon wheels mounted on the walls, with deeper shades being cast by small candles in clear square holders on the tables. Phichit drank two thirds of his beer down in one go, like a man who’d been in the hot sun all day and had just gotten the chance to lean his head under a water pump. Yuuri sipped at his own stronger concoction, watching his friend and chuckling.

“You look like you needed that,” he said, licking tart suds off his top lip.

“Believe me, I did. It’s been too long since we came here, Yuuri. We should do this more often.”

“Maybe.” Yuuri had to admit that it made a change to come here and relax. He’d been tied up for several days with helping to wean the colts on the ranch, and the harvest was starting to come in as well. It was a busy time of year.

Phichit finished his drink, got another one, and returned to pass the usual gossip on to Yuuri, though from the sound of it things had been pretty slow and dull lately. One of the ranch hands getting bitten by what he thought was a rattlesnake had been the main attraction, though it turned out it had been a harmless bull snake – but not before he’d put on a panicky show that had the other hands laughing when they’d realized he wasn’t in any danger.

There was a lull in the conversation as the two men sipped their beers. Neither had bothered to change out of his dusty working clothes, but that was normal for the habitués of establishments like this. They almost matched each other, both wearing blue wool pants and their well-worn heeled boots, and leather vests with numerous pockets. Yuuri had on a red plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and his blue bandanna and black Stetson, while Phichit’s bandanna was yellow and white, his shirt a sandy brown. He wore a hat of a similar color to his shirt, with an unusually wide brim, which Yuuri knew he believed was quite dashing. The weather had thankfully cooled to something more approaching normal for the time of year, though they hadn’t bothered to bring jackets with them.

Yuuri took a leisurely look around the room. He saw a few men he recognized from the Rafter T, several groups of others he didn’t, and a scattering of people who were no doubt townsfolk. As the night wore on, he knew the saloon would fill up with men who would in turn fill up with alcohol, some of them as fast as possible, and eventually a bit of trouble might break out, though the sheriff or one of the deputies was usually pretty good at stopping in by that point to check on things. Yuuri wasn’t interested in staying long enough to witness any of it, however.

“…next month?” Phichit was asking him.

“What?”

He laughed. “Stuck in your head again. I was asking if you were planning on going to the hoedown at Jeb Goddard’s farm next month.”

Yuuri shrugged. “Seeing as how he holds it every year, and I’m always expected to show good manners by going, since I’m the Rafter T boss’s son, I guess I don’t have much choice about it.” He took a swig of his beer.

“I thought you liked it, at least a little bit. Free alcohol. Pretty girls. And you’re a good dancer.”

“The dancing part’s OK, I suppose,” Yuuri conceded. “It’s the crowds of people I can do without. You’re better at that kind of thing than me. You’ve got more confidence.”

“How much confidence does it take just to talk to people?” Phichit asked with a slight grin.

“It can take a lot to talk to girls,” Yuuri muttered.

“C’mon, Yuuri, you’re twenty-three. It’s hard to believe you could be so shy.”

“I don’t know about shy. I just don’t know what they want me to say.”

“ ‘You’re beautiful’?” Phichit said with a smirk. ‘I can’t take my eyes off you’? A little flattery will get you going. Really, I think you’d better start looking for a girl you can marry before your parents start looking _for_ you.”

“I’m still young,” Yuuri protested. “I’ve got plenty of time for that.”

“You think? Yuuri, your mom probably expected to have grandchildren by now.”

Yuuri was about to reply when a teenager he recognized as Phichit’s younger brother approached their table. After a hurried polite greeting to Yuuri, he told Phichit he was needed back home – his father’s horse had stepped on a rock that had become lodged in its shoe, and its foot was swollen and clearly painful. He’d been sent to find someone trustworthy in town to come back and help, and who better than his own brother once he’d spotted him?

“Do you want me to come too?” Yuuri offered, starting to rise.

“It’s OK, Yuuri, you stay,” Phichit said. “I’ve done this kind of thing before. No reason for you to cut your night short too.”

“But I don’t – ” Yuuri began, but Phichit interrupted.“That’s an order. Have another beer. Maybe you’ll see someone you know. Remember what we were saying about talking to people? After a few beers, I doubt you’ll be able to stop.” He winked at his friend. “See you later.” And he got up and left with his brother.

Yuuri sighed and finished his beer, then returned to the bar. He was debating whether to get another drink and sit by himself at his table for a while, look around and see if he could spot anyone he at least had a passing acquaintance with to talk to, or give it up for the night and go back to the ranch, when a tall man sauntered up to him, two companions in his wake. Yuuri recognized him as Ebenezer, a cowboy from the Circle C who had a reputation as a troublemaker. He decided the best policy would be to simply ignore him and examine the choices of tipple on offer behind the bar.

“Hey, you. Jap.”

Yuuri felt a flush spread across his cheeks, but he continued to look forward silently.

The voice was louder, almost a growl, this time: “I’m _talkin’_ to _you._ Think you’re all high and mighty because you’re a boss’s son. Well I say you got a yellow belly to match your yellow skin.” The henchmen standing in his shadow let out low laughs.

Yuuri had met men like this before. They came to the saloon to get liquored up and have a fight, and it looked like Ebenezer had for whatever reason homed in on him to help provide his evening’s entertainment. “Go find someone else to fight with,” he replied quietly, now looking down at the bar. “I’m not interested.”

In response, Ebenezer moved forward and stood as close to Yuuri as it was possible to be without touching him. His breath was tinged with gin and halitosis, and the hairs of his dirty-blond mustache waved back and forth as he spat out his words. “Get outta here already,” he commanded Yuuri. “Your Jap filth is makin’ this place stink.”

Before he could register what was happening, let alone react, Ebenezer found himself being lifted bodily off the floor by Yuuri, who had grabbed his shirt front by both hands while using his back and legs to power his actions. His corded muscles, developed from years of ranch work, stood out on his arms where his shirt sleeves were rolled up. “If…I… _ever_ hear shit like that coming out of your mouth again, you’ll be eating it,” Yuuri said in a tone that brooked no argument. Then he shoved Ebenezer to the floor. “You savvy? What’s more, you’ll find yourself unemployed, and no ranch boss within a fifty-mile radius will hire you. Now get out of my sight.” Yuuri continued to glare down at him.

Too stunned to be able to find words, Ebenezer looked back up at him as if he couldn’t believe what was in front of his eyes. His two companions, however, began to shuffle toward Yuuri, clearly none too happy about what had just occurred. But then they spotted Lennie, the barkeeper, eyeing them from behind the counter, a Colt .45 in his hand leveled directly at them.

“I think, Ben,” Lennie said, speaking to the disheveled man as he stood up slowly and dusted himself off, looking like he wanted to spit nails, “you and your friends need to leave. Now.” He waved the end of the gun toward the door.

Ebenezer stood and stared for a moment at Yuuri, who returned his gaze. Then he gestured to his men. “C’mon. Let’s get outta this pig sty and go get some booze that don’t taste like it’s been sicked up by a cat.” With that, the three men shuffled out of the saloon.

Yuuri breathed a deep sigh. “Thanks for having my back, Lennie.”

“Anytime, Yuuri.” He replaced his gun in its hiding place behind the bar. “I won’t tolerate any disrespect of upstanding citizens like you and your family. You all have lived here in peace for years. Have a drink on me.” He refilled Yuuri’s glass with the brew he’d been sipping moments before.

“You’re a good man.” Yuuri rested his hand on Lennie’s arm briefly, then headed back to his table. That was when he suddenly noticed that the usual saloon noises had all but ceased, and several dozen faces were turned toward him, staring. He felt the red creep across his cheeks again as he swept his gaze around the room as if to say, _So what? Is there a problem?_ , then sat down with his hands cupped around his beer mug, pretending to find the wagon wheel on the nearby wall incredibly interesting. The tension began to slowly bleed back out of his chest as he heard the sounds of conversation and the clink of glasses start up again.

Just when he’d decided it would probably be best to gulp down the rest of his beer and leave, he was suddenly aware of someone standing near his table, and looked up. Anything Yuuri might have thought to say by way of greeting was choked off, and he found himself staring.

This man, whoever he was, was the most beautiful person Yuuri had ever seen, and _beautiful_ was the only word that accurately described him, regardless of gender. _Etheral_ came a close second. Despite being dressed like some kind of upper-class cowboy (if there was such a thing) – tan wool pants with knee-high leather boots in a slightly darker shade, crisp white shirt, red and white bandanna around his neck, light-colored leather vest with spiral tooling and matching Stetson that was tipped back jauntily, and a somewhat dramatic-looking tan duster coat down to his calves – his skin was milky-pale, tinged with pink over his cheeks, and his hair so blond as to appear almost white. It was an unusual style as well, one Yuuri had never seen before: very short in the back, lengthier on the sides and in the front, with long silky bangs flipped almost-but-not-quite carelessly over his left eye and partially down his nose. _How can a cowboy – if that’s what he is – be so pale?_ Yuuri wondered. The man’s broad shoulders tapered to a slim waist. He looked taller than Yuuri by several inches. The most striking feature about him, however, was a pair of big, luminous blue eyes the color of the sky on a brilliant summer’s day – and right now they were gazing down at Yuuri.     

“Mind if I join you?” he said.

“Um.” _Stop staring,_ he told himself. _What’s the matter with me?_ “Sure.”

The other man grinned and sat down, placing a tumbler half-full of some kind of pinkish liquid on the table. The light cast by the lantern on the wall painted his pale features and clothes with hues of orange and yellow. “Was that guy bothering you just now?”

There was a hint of an accent on his voice, slightly stronger than Yuuri’s own, but he couldn’t place it. Yuuri shrugged and drained his beer until it disappeared, unsure of what to say to this person who had materialized in front of him like a vision from a magazine. “Nothing I couldn’t handle,” he eventually answered, feeling rather embarrassed by the whole fiasco.

The man’s grin widened into a smile. It lit up his face and eyes. “So I saw.” He took a sip of the liquid from his tumbler.

“Yeah, well…I don’t look for trouble, but he gave me no choice. Guys like him only understand one language, and that’s physical. He’ll probably think twice before trying to pick a fight with me again.” He gave a small laugh. “Least, I hope so. I can do without it, you know?”

The man nodded and looked at Yuuri, his eyes friendly as he sipped his drink.

“What’s that in your glass?” Yuuri asked him.

“This? They call it a mule skinner. You’ve never had one?” Yuuri shook his head. “I’ll buy you one and you can try it.”

Before Yuuri could answer, the man was up and heading toward the bar. Yuuri watched him as he crossed the room and noted that he moved with the kind of grace that athletes or dancers usually possessed, rather than cowboys.

“Here you go,” the man said, sitting back down and pushing a tumbler of the liquid over to Yuuri. “See if you like it.”

“Um, thanks,” Yuuri said, eyeing the drink. “What’s in it?”

“Bourbon whiskey and blackberry liqueur. A marriage made in heaven.”

Yuuri took a sip. The whiskey lit a flame down his throat, while the liqueur chased it with a sweet tang that was slightly cloying but somehow indulgent, like stroking velvet. Drinking the concoction was an unusual experience, but not an unpleasant one, Yuuri decided. Like meeting the man in front of him. He wondered where he was from. He spoke in fairly precise grammatical phrases relatively free of the cowboy slang and twang common to these places. The same applied to himself and Phichit, who had both learned English as a second language.

“What do you think?” the man asked.

“The drink? It’s good,” Yuuri said sincerely. “Thanks.”

They both sipped quietly for a moment, and then the man said, “I know the guy who was hassling you. He and his two friends work at the Circle C. I see them around sometimes. They like a fight. The other ranch hands avoid them most of the time.”

 “You’re from the Circle C? I’ve never seen you there before. Mind you, it’s been a while since I was over there.”

The man chuckled. “Where are my manners? I haven’t introduced myself, have I? Victor Nikiforov, chief horse trainer at the Circle C.” He stretched his arm out across the table to shake hands.

Yuuri felt a jolt travel down his spine. So this was the mystery man, the fancy rider, from the Circle C. He was aware that he was staring again, and quickly shot his hand out to clasp Victor’s. The other man’s fingers were long and slightly calloused. “Yuuri Taylor from the Rafter T.”

“Ah, the boss’s son. Pleased to meet you, Yuuri.”

“Likewise.” Their hands dropped back down, and Yuuri fished in one of his vest pockets for his brass-framed glasses, which he fitted on. The clear lenses were small and oval-shaped. Then he dug into a different pocket for a little bag of tobacco and some rolling paper, which he laid out on the table in front of him. “Word has it,” he continued with a glance up at Victor before manipulating the items in front of him with deft fingers that moved almost without conscious thought, “that you’re a Cossack warrior. That’s what they’re saying at the Rafter T.” Feeling convinced, now that he’d actually met Victor, that this was just about the most absurd thing imaginable, he quirked an eyebrow at him, and the corner of his mouth lifted.

Victor burst out laughing. “Really? I wonder where they got that idea.” He settled down into a series of chuckles. “Absolutely not. Though I _am_ from Russia.”

That explained the accent, Yuuri thought. The timber of Victor’s voice was on the deep side, and he had a tendency to draw out some of his vowel sounds and occasionally roll his ‘R’s. Yuuri thought the effect was pleasantly musical, even a little soporific – though that could also be the effect of two beers and a mule skinner, he decided. “You’ve made quite a reputation for yourself,” he said, lighting his quirly and taking a drag, then tucking his smoking kit back in his pocket.

“Ah – a good one, I hope.”

“I’ve heard a lot of respectful comments about you and your riding skills.” There was a warm glow in Yuuri’s cheeks now, and somehow it wasn’t so difficult anymore to find words to say. His head buzzed slightly. “In fact, I’d decided to go looking for you when I found the time. I’ve been wanting to meet you.” He laughed, removing his glasses and returning them to their pocket. “Guess you saved me the trouble.”

“I’ve been wanting to meet you too,” Victor said, looking at Yuuri pensively. “And I could say the same thing – your men admire you. I’ve heard you’re a fine horseman.” He paused and took another drink; the liquid was almost gone. “Is it true you do lasso tricks?”

Yuuri huffed in amusement, flicking ash into the little candle in the middle of the table. “Word gets around. Yeah, I’ve been doing them for years. The men get a kick out of it sometimes. But I wouldn’t mind learning more – about horsemanship, and maybe a new trick or two, just for something different to work on.”

“Well, Yuuri Taylor, those are my specialties. You should come visit me at the Circle C, and we can talk some more.”

Yuuri’s eyes lit up. “Really? I’d like that.” Flushed with enthusiasm, he added, “What about tomorrow afternoon?”

Victor smiled, looking flattered. “I think I can find a bit of time. You’d be welcome.”

Yuuri smiled as well and finished his quirly and his drink, as did Victor. Victor offered to buy him another, but Yuuri wanted to make sure he could find his way back to the horse corral without stumbling over his own feet. “Besides,” he said, “the atmosphere in here isn’t very friendly tonight. I think I’d better get back to the ranch.”

But when he started to stand up, Victor grasped his arm gently, and Yuuri sat back down. “What?” he asked.

“Did you bring a gun?”

“Huh? No.”

“It’s just that I was thinking about Ebenezer and his two friends. They may be gone from here, but they could be waiting outside. They lost face in front of the whole saloon, and it wouldn’t be surprising if they decided to…retaliate.”

Yuuri felt the flush drain away from his face and he swallowed, wondering why he hadn’t considered this possibility. He ought to know better. But Eva Taylor, his mother, was a Quaker, and that had influenced him to never carry a gun himself unless he felt it was a necessity. Well, maybe it was, here at the Wagon Wheel on a Friday night.

Victor gathered his coat away from his hip, just far enough for Yuuri to see that he was wearing a gun belt. “I’ll come with you,” he said in a confidential tone.

“No, Victor – honestly, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“It’s no problem. People have to look out for each other in places like this. There’s safety in numbers, and two is better than one, especially when the one hasn’t got a weapon on him. Don’t you think?”

“Well, I…OK.”

“I’ll just go and tell the people I came in with where I’m going. Won’t be a minute.”

Yuuri waited a little nervously while Victor went to have a word with some men at a table at the far end of the room. He didn’t want Victor to feel put out, but he had to concede he had a point about the possible danger outside.

They exited the saloon and made their way in silence to the corral, both looking around for any sign of trouble, but the streets were deserted apart from the odd person walking down the boardwalk to or from one of the saloons. Though they stood in the shadows, Yuuri could make out the tall, statuesque shape of Victor’s horse, whose white coat seemed to shimmer underneath the moon.

Victor stroked the animal’s neck affectionately. “This is Luchik. That’s ‘Sunbeam’ in Russian, though I think he looks just as beautiful in the moonlight.” He mounted smoothly and looked at Yuuri’s own horse. “You have a quarter horse too.”

“Her name’s Biscuit,” Yuuri said, climbing into the saddle. “Not a very exotic name, I guess, but she’s good and strong, and does some great cutting and reining work.”

They continued to chat about their horses as they rode warily out of the corral and through the town, but to Yuuri’s relief there was still no sign that anyone had been waiting for him in ambush. He half-expected Victor to go back to his companions in the saloon, but when he suggested it, Victor wouldn’t hear of it, and said it would make sense for them to ride together as far as the road to the Circle C, which was closer to town on the same road as the Rafter T. Yuuri reluctantly agreed again, wondering why Victor would choose to spend his time in this way, but he had to admit he enjoyed the company.

Victor was easy to talk to, even though Yuuri felt himself sobering up now in the cooling night air, and the extra confidence that had come with the buzz was gone. They discussed the tasks they performed on their respective ranches, which sounded fairly similar, though each was careful not to pry with questions of a more personal nature, having only just met. The silences between their conversations were comfortable too, Yuuri found, and at times he had to tell himself again to stop staring at the man who rode next to him. The bright moon bathed the road in silver, and likewise spilled onto Victor and Luchik; the horse almost seemed to glow, as did the strands of Victor’s hair that were flicked over his face. Yuuri could imagine the scene being depicted in paintings by Western artists like Frederic Remington that he saw published in magazines. Part of him still couldn’t believe that Victor was real.

When they reached the turnoff to the Circle C, they said their goodbyes, and Yuuri thanked Victor for accompanying him. “I’ll look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Yuuri,” Victor said, doffing his hat and then giving a wave before disappearing into the shadows, the rhythmic clop of Luchik’s hooves gradually fading away until there was only silence.

  _Me too,_ Yuuri thought, smiling to himself as he urged Biscuit on her way.


	3. Chapter 3

The clouds above the mountains were making an effort to gather and give the parched land the soaking it needed; but as was so often the case, their moisture was lost over the high ground, and the white vapor simply dissipated until it had disappeared over the foothills. A gentle breeze ruffled Yuuri’s shirt as he rode Biscuit to the Circle C. He’d told Phichit about meeting Victor at the Wagon Wheel, and their agreed appointment today. The younger man had hoped to be able to accompany him, but had discovered to his chagrin that there was too much work to do on the ranch. It was one of those occasions that forced Yuuri to remember and be thankful for the fact that he had the freedom on the ranch, as the boss’s son, to come and go; while he never questioned pitching in to help out when it was needed, he could also decide to go into town, or ride up into the mountains, and rarely would anyone argue about where he’d gone, even his father. Phichit and the other hands had no such luxury.

Yuuri rode underneath the large wooden sign proclaiming the name of the ranch, and waved to a few of the hands he passed as Biscuit followed the dirt path to the area where the main outbuildings were clustered. Most people here knew him by sight, apart from those who’d been hired in the past year. The clucking of hens and honks of geese reached Yuuri’s ears as he passed their little sheds. Smoke curled from one of the two chimneys at the white-painted ranch house in the distance, where Abe and Laura Connor, the boss and his wife, lived. Even on hot days, fires were still necessary for cooking, heating water, washing, and other routine activities in such places. A way into in the distance, beyond the house, snaked the Gypsum River, flanked by lush green pastures in which a few cattle were grazing.

“Well if it ain’t Yuuri Taylor,” a cowboy greeted Yuuri as he stopped and dismounted, taking Biscuit’s reins with one hand. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Hi, Walt. I’m looking for Victor. He asked me to meet him here today.”

“He’ll be out at the stables, I reckon. That’s where he usually is, leastways.” Walt was slightly older than Yuuri, with black skin and a derby hat that he lifted briefly so he could wipe his forehead with his bandanna. “Feels like it’s never gonna get nice an’ cool out here this year. What’s the word at the Rafter T?”

The two men chatted pleasantly as they walked toward the stable and corral area, Yuuri filling Walt in on any gossip he could think of, most of which had been passed on to him by Phichit. Walt, in turn, told him about the doings at the Circle C. They were planning a major roundup in a few weeks’ time, which would involve the cowboys from nearby ranches riding out to the high country where most of the cattle were at the summer feeding grounds, separating them out according to their brands, and herding them back to the range. Yuuri had been considering attending with some hands from the Rafter T.

The corral was empty when they drew up to the fence. Walt put his hands to his mouth and shouted in the direction of the stable, “Hey, Victor! Got y’self a visitor out here!”

“Be right with you!” Yuuri heard a now-familiar voice call from inside. Soon Victor was walking out towards them, dressed similarly to the night before. “Hi, Yuuri. Glad you could make it.” To Walt he said, “Thanks for showing him over.”

“No problem, my good man.”

“Come on in, then,” Victor said, opening the corral gate. Yuuri stepped inside, leading Biscuit, and Victor closed the gate behind them. “No trouble on the road back to the Rafter T last night?”

Yuuri shook his head. “Thanks for riding out with me, though.”

Victor smiled and they headed inside the stable. Luchik was there in a stall, and Yuuri got a clear view of him for the first time. He was as fair and well-proportioned as his owner, and looked like he could win races. “I was going to ride him a little later,” Victor said, and Yuuri saw that the horse was wearing an exotic-looking saddle with a high horn and multiple straps whose use he struggled to fathom.

Victor saw that Biscuit was settled in a stall with some water, hay and grain, then took Yuuri for a tour. The stable here was loftier than that of the Rafter T, and slightly larger, the walls and ceiling consisting of dark-stained wooden planks. Victor seemed to know everything there was to know about every horse inside, from the ones that belonged to the boss and the ranch hands to the mustangs that were being tamed – their individual temperaments, how they liked to be treated, what food they did well on, various quirks or ailments that they had experienced. Yuuri suddenly felt ashamed that he’d never bothered to get to know his own ranch’s herd this well, and thought maybe it was time to start putting that right.

Once they’d been around the stable and were outside in the corral again, Yuuri decided he could no longer contain his curiosity and said to Victor, “So, these riding tricks you do…want to show me some of them?”

“Abe doesn’t like it much,” Victor said as they walked. “He says that’s not what he pays me to do.”

Walt had been lingering near the corral fence and overheard the two of them. He grinned. “Now Victor, that sounds like stretchin’ the truth. The boss enjoys a good show as much as the rest of us, and you put on a good one – you know you do. How ’bout it?” He looked at Yuuri. “You won’t believe what you’re seein’, I can tell you.”

Yuuri joined in with an encouraging smile, and Victor laughed. “Okay. I’ll go get Luchik. Yuuri, you’d better stand on the other side of the fence.”

Yuuri moved next Walt, who had made himself comfortable leaning against the fence and was grinning like his favorite dessert was on its way. Suddenly he called in the direction of the ranch, again with his hands to his mouth, “Hey, guys, Victor’s puttin’ on a show! Y’all come see!” They were soon joined by ten or so other cowhands, lined up along the fence and waiting.

“This’ll be good,” the man who’d come to stand on the other side of Yuuri said in a low, slow voice as he chewed on a piece of straw. Yuuri took in the admiring audience, who seemed to know what to expect, and curiosity blazed inside him as he wondered what Victor had done in the past that had made such an impression on them.

Soon he reappeared, leading Luchik into the corral. He waved at Yuuri and the ranch hands. Yuuri saw that he’d removed his duster coat, and watched as he put a word in his horse’s ear and gave his neck an affectionate pat. A few of the men whistled and shouted encouragements. Victor moved to stand behind Luchik – then suddenly jumped, stretching both arms out and placing his palms on the rump, and vaulted himself up into the saddle, where he landed neatly. Yuuri’s eyes widened in surprise. Victor quickly guided Luchik into a gallop around the corral; and as the horse moved in wide circles, its rider grabbed the saddle horn with his right hand, the neck with his left, and vaulted himself again so that he was facing backwards with his legs sprawled along the saddle in front of him. He stretched his arms out at his sides, striking a graceful pose down to his fingertips, as Luchik continued to gallop.

Walt took a look at Yuuri’s stunned expression and hooted with laughter. “Good, ain’t he?” A man lurking in the vicinity of the crowd, who Yuuri recognized with an unpleasant jolt as Ebenezer, muttered something darkly, and Walt returned, “There’s no pleasing some. But if you ask me, this shit’s as hot as a whorehouse on nickel night.” He turned back to watch Victor, shaking his head and chuckling.

“This here’s the goddamn prince of the ranch, I’m tellin’ ya,” Yuuri heard someone else say. “God know how he does that stuff without breakin’ every bone in his body.”

Victor vaulted himself back into the normal riding position in the saddle, then in one fluid motion lifted himself down the side of the horse facing the fence and held himself there, his hands on the horn and his toes sharing a stirrup. Next he stretched a foot out so that it was trailing feather-light on the ground, kicking up a fine line of dust, and at the same time he took his hat off with his left hand and doffed it to the men as he rode by. The strength needed to hold on with one arm and one leg was obviously considerable, but there was no sign of tension or strain on Victor’s face – nothing but serenity.

A feeling of unreality was steadily growing inside of Yuuri. He clutched at the fence in front of him as his world narrowed to this man on his horse, both of them aglow in the bright sunlight.

There were hollers and applause, and a couple of men shouted, “Go, Victor!” Ebenezer said, “He’ll catch hell from the boss again for riskin’ his neck like this for no good reason but showin’ off. What the fuck you need moves like that on a ranch for, anyway?” But no one paid him any mind, and so he eventually departed.

Victor maneuvered himself into a position where he was kneeling on top of the saddle; then he grabbed at a strap on the side and began lowering himself downward head first, his abdomen against the side of the saddle. His hat toppled off as he reached a hand underneath the horse and around to a strap on the opposite side, pulling himself smoothly across the horse’s belly and back up so that he was sitting on top again. This was greeted with cheers and yells from his audience.

Yuuri didn’t join them. He barely heard the sounds they made. His heart swelled until he was sure it would burst in rapture from the beauty of what he was seeing.

Victor gave them a glittering smile as he got into a kneeling position one more time, Luchik never ceasing his gallop, and placed his palms on either side of the front of the saddle – then proceeded to raise himself in a handstand, his lithe form an almost straight line protruding from the precarious-looking balance points, despite the motions of the moving horse. With a quick whistle, Luchik gradually slowed, and when he was almost at a halt Victor executed a tumble over the rump and onto his feet on the ground. He looked over at the men gathered at the fence and raised a hand in the air to finish with a flourish.

There was one last round of cheering, and shouts of praise, and then the ranch hands grudgingly began to filter away back to their rather less entertaining afternoon chores. Walt poked Yuuri’s arm and laughed, then said goodbye and went on his way. Someone else simply muttered, “Holy shit,” shaking his head in disbelief as he walked off.

Yuuri had remained silent throughout the performance. He felt like he’d been transported someplace else entirely…away from the ranch, the men, the animals, the dirt. Someplace where time didn’t exist, and everything was perfection and light. He had to take a moment to remind himself of who and where he actually was.

_Oh my god, what just happened to me?_

Not only had Victor performed tricks that Yuuri would never have dreamed possible, but he’d executed them with the utmost grace and poise, as if they’d been so easy that they barely required thought or concentration. No one he’d ever seen at any rodeo had matched this; no one had even come close. If anyone had described it to Yuuri, without having seen the performance himself, he would instantly have laughed it off as exaggeration. But this…this had been a work of art in motion. Transcendent. Surely no human being could achieve such things. But he just had; Yuuri had witnessed it.

He was suddenly aware that his mouth was hanging open, and snapped it shut.

Victor was chuckling as he approached Yuuri, who was the last person still standing at the fence; he hadn’t moved for the past several minutes. Victor had picked up his hat and was dusting it off. “I keep meaning to do something about this. It fits well enough, but even the best hat is likely to fall off if you’re hanging upside down.”

Yuuri realized that he was being spoken to, and tried to find his voice. It was down in his throat somewhere, and barely audible when he murmured, “I – I…” and then fell silent, his eyes still wide as he stared at Victor.

“Did you like the show?” Victor asked, smiling in understanding at Yuuri; he was clearly used to evoking this reaction in people. “I know it was quick, but well…Abe doesn’t like me distracting the hands too long, and there are only so many tricks you can do all at once. You might be surprised to hear they’re not the safest moves for man or horse.” He chuckled again, replacing his hat at its customary jaunty angle.

Yuuri cleared his throat, ordering himself to stop looking like a goggling fish. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” he breathed. “Why didn’t you tell me you could ride like that? W-where did you learn?”

Victor came forward and leaned on the fence near Yuuri, turning his head to look at him as he spoke. “In Russia I worked at stables where we trained horses for the Cossacks,” he said. “Maybe that’s how the rumor started that I was a – what was it? Cossack warrior? But I was never in the army myself. Their trick riding is a tradition that goes back a long time, many hundreds of years. It can be very useful for them. They’ll try to intimidate the enemy by standing up in the saddle, or hide their numbers by hanging from the side or even the bottom of the horse. When I came to this country, I brought my trick saddle with me.” He whistled and Luchik trotted over. Then he pointed out the unusual features on the saddle that Yuuri had noticed earlier. “The high horn and handles and foot loops are there so that the rider can do the types of tricks I showed you. I’ve done them myself for years – you have to be able to, if you’re training horses and men to do them; and I learned from the best. A retired Cossack officer called Yakov Feltsman taught me a lot of what I know.” A faint smile crossed his face as he seemed to be remembering. “I enjoy doing the tricks here on the ranch, even if they’re not so much use. They’re good for winning money at rodeos, too.”

Yuuri laughed at that, trying to take in everything Victor had told him. “I can imagine.”

“You have to have a close, trusting relationship with your horse,” Victor continued, giving Luchik a stroke. “That’s why I don’t use whips or spurs or anything like that. Horses are intelligent animals; many are able to learn how to follow the subtlest cues from the rider, just from his legs or boots, or a slight shift of his weight.”

Yuuri looked down at the small spurs protruding from his own boots and vowed to remove them as soon as he got back to the Rafter T. “Victor…” he began, then paused, searching for words. “…there’s so much I could learn from you. I hope you’d be willing to let me. Can I come and watch you again?”

Victor smiled at him, his blue eyes twinkling. “I’m surprised you have to ask. Of course, Yuuri. Anytime.”

***

Yuuri waded into the shallow water at the side of the Gypsum River, feeling the cool, tickling flow around his toes. It sent a tingle up his legs and spine, and he kicked playfully, spraying glittering droplets into the air. The light breeze was pleasantly warm, and it ruffled his dark hair. Yuuri carefully felt his way along each slippery gray rock with the sensitive skin underneath his feet, until he was immersed waist-deep.

Phichit was nearby, waiting for him; he was scrubbing at a shirt with a bar of soap and dunking it in the water. They had both shed their clothes at the riverbank, and Yuuri started running his own bar of castile soap up and down his arms.

“Hey!” Phichit greeted him with a smile. “How’d the roundup go?”

“Great – I’ll tell you in a minute. But where’ve you been lately?” Yuuri asked as he splashed himself. “I haven’t seen you around much.”

“I’ve been going to my parents’ house a lot lately when I’m not doing stuff here at the ranch. My mom wasn’t very well for a while – though she’s a lot better now; and she needed some help around the house and in the shop.” He held his shirt up in front of him, and as it dripped down he inspected it. “Those baked-bean stains are a devil to shift.” And he plunged the garment back under.

Yuuri looked at him in surprise. “You should’ve told me! I would’ve helped. I’ve been missing you. It’s no fun going into town on my own.”

“I appreciate it, Yuuri, but I guess there’s some things families prefer to keep to themselves, especially mine, since we’re…you know, a bit different from the others around here. Sometimes we do things they think are peculiar – and hell, we don’t even speak English unless we’ve got a visitor.” He scrubbed some more at the stain with his soap, then stole a glance at Yuuri and grinned. “So have you seen Victor lately? You haven’t told me anything since that day you went to visit him at the Circle C.” With a laugh, he added, “And you could hardly breathe for trying to get all the words out at once about what you’d seen him do. Have you been back there since?”

“Well, sort of. I went to visit a week after, but when I got there they told me he’d gone into town, so I came back here. _But_ …” he added, his eyes lighting up, “…guess who showed up yesterday, on the last day of the roundup?”

Phichit waded over to the riverbank, hung his wet shirt on the saddle of his staked-out horse and grabbed a pair of pants, then returned to the water near Yuuri and gave an amused huff as he looked at his friend, who now seemed to be bursting with the news he wanted to share. “Go on, tell me. You know I wanted to come along, but Carl insisted he had plenty of other things for me to do.” He lifted his eyebrows. “If you weren’t my friend, I might even say I was jealous. Well, out with it, then. Who showed up, and what happened?”

“It was Victor, of course. I don’t think he goes out like that very often; he seems to have his hands full with what he does at the stable. Anyway,” he continued as Phichit scrubbed again with the soap, “it was a good trip up and back from the feeding grounds – nice weather, no big problems with anything. I think we must’ve had men there from five or six ranches, including the Circle C. And then, what do you know – suddenly there’s Victor riding up to me, saying hi, would I like to partner him with roping some cattle? He’d heard I was good with a lasso.”

“He got that right.”

Yuuri shook his head with a rueful smile. “Knowing him, he could probably ride rings around me with that, as well as everything else he does. But he didn’t do any tricks out there; we just rode together and did what we’d all come out to do. And several times when there were strays, we caught them together – you know, like they do at the rodeo; I lassoed the neck and Victor lassoed the back legs. We were a pretty good team, I reckon. And you should see how he rides, Phichit – I’ve never seen anyone so graceful.” He fell silent, lost in thought, and soaped underneath his arms. It was impossible to express how he really felt about the day before – how it seemed at times like his heart could not contain all the excitement and delight of being in this savage but beautiful land, doing what he enjoyed with this unique individual. At times he’d even felt ashamed of his enthusiasm, behaving – he was sure – like an awestruck twelve-year-old; but Victor had never laughed at him or deliberately made him feel awkward, for which he was thankful.

Phichit eyed Yuuri with interest and stilled his laundry work. “Wow, this guy’s really made an impression on you. How come _I_ haven’t met him yet? You’ve got me burning up with curiosity now.”

“Well, maybe you’ll get the chance soon. And you’ve _got_ to see his trick riding.”

“Do you know if he’ll be at the hoedown next weekend?”

Yuuri gave him a blank look. “The hoedown? Shit, I forgot.” He soaped his chest, then gave his regions underneath the water a quick, rough going-over before tipping his head back and wetting his hair. “I wonder if I can think up some excuse – ”

“Yuuri Taylor,” Phichit said, wading up to him and looking him squarely in the eye, “you’re not getting out of it that easy. You’re gonna come with me, and we’re gonna have a good time. Got that?” He flashed a grin and swatted Yuuri’s arm. “And by the way, I’ve heard all this stuff you’ve said about how good Victor is, but I know you. You underestimate yourself, pard. Don’t forget you’re still the best horseman at the Rafter T. OK?”


	4. Chapter 4

Jeb Goddard’s farm was a few miles on the other side of Larkspur, with a barn and surrounding grounds big enough to host several hundred people for the annual hoedown. Farmers, ranchers, workmen and townsfolk were never hesitant to partake of the generous buffets on offer, as well as the alcohol that flowed freely; and the large dances, accompanied by musicians playing fiddles, harmonicas, banjos and whatever else they could dig out, were the icing on the cake.

That was, unless you were Yuuri.

He’d arrived with most of the other men from the Rafter T, though he had soon drifted away, lost in his own thoughts and wondering how long Phichit would humor him as his companion, if he could find him. He knew his friend liked to use these occasions to flirt with the ladies – though truth be told, he was always looking for an opportunity to do so. That wasn’t something that interested Yuuri a great deal, at least not anymore. And as far as trying to cultivate a serious relationship went, his life at the ranch always seemed to call to him more strongly. It was tempting to use that as a wall between himself and anyone else he might have eventually gotten closer to; and so his romantic encounters had been limited to some physical explorations and a few dates that had led to nothing. As he’d grown older, the awareness had gradually dawned that he was afraid if he _let_ anyone in, they wouldn’t like what they found. It was easy to push people away, but he wasn’t quite sure how to stop. Phichit was one exception, at least; they’d known each other for years, having sat next to each other in the town schoolhouse (initially paired up, he had little doubt, because they were both foreign and Asian), and had settled into an easy companionship.

Shaking himself out of his reverie as the notes of a fiddle drifted through the air, Yuuri contented himself for now with locating the food, which was outside the barn, and polishing off a plate of barbecued ribs, corn on the cob, baked beans and potato salad, followed by a slice of cherry pie – at least the food was always something to look forward to here – while having a decidedly dry conversation with Carl about repairs that needed to be done around the ranch. He had started to wonder if attempting to pluck up the courage to find a girl to ask to dance would actually be a preferable alternative, when Phichit finally found him, a half-full glass of beer in one hand. Carl excused himself, and Phichit shook his head at his friend.

“You haven’t danced with anyone yet, Yuuri. Why are you talking business with Carl when you’re supposed to be letting your hair down and having fun?”

They wandered away from the food toward the barn. A welcoming golden light shone from the entrance as the evening shadows outside deepened.

A prickle of irritation was starting to creep up the back of Yuuri’s neck. “I just haven’t felt like it tonight. Sometimes they…expect things after you’ve danced with them, and I’m not sure I’m in the mood.” An unpleasant memory began to tug at the corners of his mind – a recent one that he was still struggling to tamp back down into oblivion. It hadn’t been at a hoedown, but a barn had most assuredly been involved.

Phichit let loose a hearty laugh at this. “Yuuri, haven’t you ever taken a girl somewhere private and made out with her?” He paused to consider for a moment as his laughter died down. “Hay lofts are good.”

“Sure I have,” Yuuri responded quickly. Though in reality he hadn’t done so that many times, once he’d satisfied his initial curiosity. It wasn’t that he hadn’t liked it as such; just that he hadn’t discovered the heat and passion he’d heard other men tell about, and ended up wondering what he was doing wrong. He’d been invited on trips to the cathouses in town, but the thought of paying a woman he didn’t know so he could use her body wasn’t something that appealed. If he were honest, being out on the open range or in the mountains with his horse and a good friend like Phichit was more enjoyable than anything else he could imagine, and women had never made it near the top of his list of priorities; especially after he’d had to face the reality of his lack of skill in that area, as well as his fear of trusting anyone not to run away once they’d gotten to know him better and decided they wished they hadn’t. While he’d always assumed – with his parents’ prodding, of course – that he’d get married and have children one day, then live with his family on the ranch and eventually take over the running of it, that day was always pushed further into the future; and he told himself – out of unthinking habit now – that he still had plenty of time.

And then his last encounter had firmly put paid to any further attempted sexual forays – the encounter that had created the memory Yuuri was so keen to forget. Greta, the daughter of the local blacksmith, had found a pretext to get him into her family’s barn ( _lured_ was more like it, he thought upon reflection), and they had soon sunk together into the hay. Yuuri remembered discovering the curves and softness of her body, reminding himself that he would never go so far with a girl that she would end up in a compromising situation – not that it had been an issue up to that point. Then, during their kiss, he felt her tongue lick gently at his lower lip; and before he had time to decide how he felt about this or what he should do to respond, she’d grabbed his crotch and given it a squeeze.

With a squeak of shock, Yuuri had jumped up, stumbled over a quick apology and excuse about how he had to get back to the ranch, brushed the straw off his clothes haphazardly, and almost flown out of the barn. He’d spent the following days with a face that burned with embarrassment as he tried desperately to shove the whole incident from his mind. This was made rather difficult by the fact that his tasks on the ranch necessitated frequent visits to the blacksmith; and whenever Greta saw him there, she would give him a lascivious wink and smile that were guaranteed to spread an instant flush from his cheeks to his chest. He prayed every time that her father wouldn’t notice. _I never expected a girl to behave that way, that’s all,_ he tried to justify to himself.

Phichit was sipping his glass of beer and watching to see if Yuuri wanted to add anything to his remark. Yuuri cleared his throat and said in what he hoped was a low enough voice that no one else would hear, “Do you know why a girl would stick her tongue out and lick your lip – you know, when you’ve been kissing her? Is that supposed to be…sexy?”

Phichit’s mouth broke into a grin that was part amusement and part intense curiosity. “Who did that to you, then?”

“Um…just, do you know?” Yuuri could feel that damned blush starting again in his cheeks. Would he never be rid of it where this subject was concerned?

Phichit leaned in conspiratorially. “It’s telling someone you want them to open their mouth wider so you can tangle tongues,” he said simply, then watched Yuuri’s face for his reaction. When it was clear that his friend wasn’t sure what to say next, he added, “You know – touching them together, circling them around each other, exploring each other’s mouths.”

It sounded…odd. Yuuri tried to imagine what that would be like, but was struggling to mentally translate it into something more erotic than licking an ice-cream cone or pushing a piece of chewing gum around.

“You mean you’ve never…?” Phichit’s voice trailed off and he laughed. It was good-natured rather than derogatory, however, and implied he was sorry that Yuuri was missing out on something fun.

Yuuri bit back an embarrassed retort and looked around the room. He was a failure with women. He was a failure at social occasions like this too. He never knew what to say to people, and always had the feeling they were looking at him like he was some kind of curious specimen that didn’t belong there. Well, he wasn’t putting up with it any further tonight. Once he spotted where the whiskey was being poured, he made a beeline for it. No watery beer for him tonight – he was going to blot out every ounce of anxiety and self-deprecation running through his veins and replace them with 100-proof mountain howitzer.

And that’s what he did. His memory shortly afterward was a blank.

***

  _Jesus Christ_ , Yuuri thought as his head swam painfully into consciousness the next morning. It felt like someone was taking a pickaxe to his skull, his mouth was dry, and his stomach seemed to want to exit his body through the nearest convenient orifice. He quickly went to spend a fair bit of time in the outhouse, thankful that no one else was desperate to use it, and wondered what the hell he had been thinking, getting so hammered the night before. He’d woken up in his room, but God only knew how he’d gotten there. The last thing he remembered was gulping down some kind of rotgut whiskey while watching a group of men from the Circle C arrive at the hoedown, including Victor. Had Yuuri even spoken to him? Considering the state he must have been in at the time, he hoped not, because he had no doubt the result would have been embarrassing.

Trusting that his body was finished evacuating its contents for now, Yuuri made his way back to his room and washed gingerly with water from his pitcher, swilling a bit around his mouth, which tasted like a trash can. Even a quirly would taste better than this, he thought as he reached into a pocket of his vest – he was still wearing his clothes from the night before – fished out the paraphernalia he needed, put his glasses on so he could see what he was doing, and rolled one. After he lit it and took a drag, feeling himself relax a little, he opened his window and stared outside at the lovely day and the hateful sun that hurt to look at. Maybe a few more hours under the covers would help.

There was a knock at his door that he recognized as his mother’s, and he opened it. Eva Taylor, a slightly built woman with brown hair piled on top of her head, blue eyes, and glasses, looked at him with a frown. “Your father wants to speak to you,” she said. “I don’t think he’s very happy about last night.”

This was typical. His mother was often sent by his father as a messenger, as if speaking to his own son was too difficult at times; and then there was the cryptic indication that he wasn’t happy about something. When Yuuri was younger, this kind of statement would leave him with a sense of anxiety or dread until he found out what it was he was supposed to have done to upset the powers-that-be. Now, however, he just saw it as an annoyance. At twenty-three, he was answerable to himself, not so much his parents anymore.

They made their way to the living room, with the ticking grandfather clock and the trophies and ancient photos, and his father stood up from his leather easy chair. Eva silently left the room, and Yuuri took his glasses back off and put them away. “You look like hell,” Hank said to Yuuri, eyeing him.

“That’s what I feel like too. I thought maybe a little more shut-eye would do me some good.”

“There’s things that need doing around the ranch. I need you out there right now.”

“OK,” Yuuri said, turning to leave.

“Wait a minute! I think you owe me an apology too, for your behavior last night.”

Yuuri paused. He hoped his poker face looked convincing, because inside he was cringing. _Here we go_ , he thought _. Now’s when I find out exactly what I did to make an ass out of myself._

“I wasn’t in the barn to see it, but word gets back to me,” his father went on. “I know the ranch hands thought it was amusing, but I expect you to conduct yourself with some decorum when you’re in front of a bunch of townsfolk like that. This is for your own good as well as mine – you’ll need everybody’s respect when you take over the ranch one day, and you sure as hell won’t earn it that way. You got it?”

“Yessir,” answered Yuuri in what he hoped was a suitably demure tone.

“Now, there’s a pile of wood out front that needs chopping. It’s going to be for us to use in the house this winter, and I’ve got other things to do today, so I need you to go do that. Then see Carl, ’cause he’s got one or two things for you as well.”

“OK.”

“Get on with you, then.”

Yuuri nodded and left the room, returning to his own to put on his gray woollen coat; the weather had taken a nippy turn of late, though after a spell of chopping wood he felt sure he’d be feeling warm enough. The problem was, his head was throbbing so much that the thought of hard physical labor made him feel sick all over again.

 _At least he didn’t spell out to me what exactly I’m supposed to have done last night,_ Yuuri thought with gratitude. There were simply some things it was better not to know. He had no intention of asking Phichit either, if the young man had even been present in the barn at the time. Yuuri could only hope he’d wandered off and not witnessed the fiasco.

After guzzling down some more water, he wandered outside to the tool shed, picked up an axe, and made his way down the drive from the house, where he knew the woodpile was located. As he walked, he passed a small group of ranch hands on their way to the stable, who shouted out enthusiastic greetings to him and in turns snickered and wolf-whistled. Feeling his cheeks grow warm, Yuuri waved back half-heartedly but did not pause.

“Yuuri, you were amazing last night!” one of them shouted, then laughed heartily.

 _Sure,_ Yuuri thought, _that’s me, the amazing drunk for hire to entertain you. Stumbling around and puking all inclusive; standing on tables and slurring barroom songs optional._ When he reached the woodpile, he hefted a piece onto the nearby stump, positioned it carefully, and swung the axe. Soon he was busy with his work, the poisonous mess the previous night had left in his head gradually clearing as he breathed in the fresh air and worked his muscles in a rhythm that had him sweating. He took off his coat and draped it over a log.

Phichit rode by on his horse at one point, heading away from the ranch. He stopped briefly to say good morning to Yuuri. “How are you feeling?” he asked, looking down as Yuuri paused and leaned on his axe. “You really went for that whiskey last night.”

Yuuri sighed. “Not you too. Look, Phichit – ”

“I went outside with Hannah Townshend for a spell – well, I guess it ended up being longer than a spell – and when I came back you were gone. Zach told me you’d come back here with some of the other Rafter T men, so I figured you’d be all right, but I thought I’d ask.”

For once, Phichit didn’t seem to be up on the latest gossip – this time about his friend – and Yuuri silently breathed his thanks. “I’m feeling kinda rough, but I’m OK. I think I’ll go out on Biscuit when I’m done here.”

“OK. I’ve gotta go help shift some cattle. See you later.”

“See you,” Yuuri said, getting back to work.

After another half hour he felt he’d done enough, grabbed up his coat, and headed for the stable. Never mind what his father had said about seeing Carl; what he needed right now was a little time to himself with nothing between him, his horse and the mountains. He spent some time grooming Biscuit, relaxing into the strokes of the different brushes, until she was sleek from head to tail. The he saddled her up and rode out at a leisurely pace onto the road than ran past the entrance to the ranch. If he got close enough to the foothills, he knew the deciduous trees that were sprinkled in among the pines would just be starting to turn; their yellow, red and orange leaves poking through the canopy of green. He always liked going out there at this time of year.

That was when the shots went off.

Yuuri brought Biscuit to a sudden halt. Yes, those had been gunshots, not far in the distance down the road. He couldn’t see what was happening because it cornered thirty yards or so away. Yuuri’s heart leapt in his chest. He wasn’t armed himself – what should he do? Swiftly he decided that if anyone was in trouble, he had to do what he could to help, and he urged Biscuit forward.

Just then, three more riders from the Rafter T drew up behind him: Phichit; Curtis, a slim dark-haired man in his mid-twenties; and Bjorn, a muscular Norwegian. “I thought you’d gone,” Yuuri said to his friend.

“Didn’t get very far before we heard the noise,” Phichit replied. “These two joined me on the road. Who here is armed?”

“I am,” Curtis said. No one else answered.

“OK, well one of us is better than none,” Yuuri said. “We’d better go find out what’s happening over there. Come on.” He gripped Biscuit’s reins and made to leave.

“Wait,” Bjorn said in a thick accent. “It would be stupid to ride straight into danger. I think it would be better for us to find some high ground nearby where we can look down on the road and see what we can see without giving ourselves away.”

The other men made noises of agreement. “That sounds like a plan,” Yuuri said. “Curtis, keep your gun to hand. If we ride up over there a ways, there’s a big cluster of bushes that should be high enough to hide us and our horses, unless someone’s chopped them down recently, and I don’t see why they should. Let’s go.” With that, Yuuri led the way, feeling a responsibility to take charge as the boss’s son. They urged their horses to move as quickly as possible over the terrain, then halted near the bushes, dismounted, and stole what glimpses they could of the road, which was about twenty feet down a steep incline.

Yuuri was concerned that they hadn’t heard any more noises after the gunshots that had been fired ten minutes or so ago. He felt sweat trickling down his forehead, which had little to do with the heat. At first he couldn’t see anything but the dusty yellow road winding its way past their lookout post; but as he scanned further into the distance toward the mountains, he spied something that froze the blood in his veins and stopped his breath.

“They’re trying to rob that stagecoach!” Phichit exclaimed in a low hiss.

The scene was too far away for any of them to make out what was being said, but they could see three mounted men dressed in tattered cowboy togs wearing bandannas over their noses and mouths, each one holding a gun pointed at either the stagecoach driver or the man who was riding shotgun – and who was also aiming said weapon straight back at them. There were several passengers in the stagecoach, but for the time being they were staying put, with frightened faces peeking out of the window. Yuuri could see at least one child inside – a young boy.

“Yuuri? What do you want to do?” Phichit asked after a pause.

Yuuri struggled unsuccessfully to find his voice. _Come on, come on, you’ve got to help them_ , he told himself. But when he felt his body start to shake, he knew he was no longer fit to be in control here. _Say something, at least._ “Uh – ”

“Look at ’em – they’re just kids,” Curtis said, eyeing the outlaws. “Looks like they’ve ended up in a standoff. I don’t think they know what to do.” The stagecoach driver was saying something to them, while the three would-be robbers continued to point their guns. The man with the shotgun also held his ground.

With a glance at Yuuri, who remained silent, Curtis continued, “We’ve got the element of surprise – them bandits have got their backs to us. We can sneak down – I’ve got the gun, so I’ll go in front – and tell ’em to put their hands up. The guy down there with the shotgun will see us coming. Easy, huh?”

“I’m up for it,” Phichit said, and Bjorn also nodded. Then he gave his friend a searching look. “Yuuri, is something wrong?”

Yuuri swallowed. “No. I’m with you.” It took a supreme effort to make it sound like his body and mind hadn’t been thrown into sudden crisis, but he appeared to have managed it, for his three companions began to creep surreptitiously down the slope, Curtis in front, aiming his gun at the outlaw who was talking to the stagecoach driver. Yuuri followed behind them, steeling his resolve against the growing rebellion of his body. _I’m not a coward_ , he told himself. _I can do this. I_ will _do this._

But then his vision was hijacked by the image of a similar scene – a stagecoach, outlaws with guns, panicking passengers. Only this time Yuuri was part of it – he was _inside_ the stagecoach, clutching in fear at the skirts of the woman next to him, whose arms were wrapped protectively around him. She was crying.

His mother.

Yuuri himself was too short to be able to see out of the window, but he could hear yelling outside, gunshots, screams. The door was flung open by the man next to him – his father – who was sprawled on the ground the next second, blood gushing from a bullet wound in his head. Other passengers were trying to escape through the opposite door; Yuuri couldn’t make sense of what was happening. Rough hands grabbing at them, more gunshots. The woman who was his mother collapsing on top of him. She never moved again. And then…silence.  

Back on the incline, Yuuri wasn’t sure what he was seeing; which stagecoach vision was real. His head was filled with gunshots and hollers, and terror shook his body as if he were a rag doll. Naked and vulnerable as he felt in its wake, he was helpless to stop the animal noise that began deep in his throat and ripped its way out in a series of screams that shattered the stillness around him. He collapsed on the ground, whimpering – and a bullet ricocheted against a stone inches from his head.

There were cries of “Sweet Jesus!” and “Holy fuck!” as more gunshots rang out. Now the sounds were moving closer to the stagecoach, away from Yuuri. He was still riding the waves of whatever it was that had possessed him, though he was also conscious of the gunshots ceasing and the beginnings of heated conversations not far away. Gradually he regained control of his limbs, and he lifted his head from the hard, dry earth, spitting out dirt.

A hand touched his back, and he flinched and cried out.

“Yuuri!” came a voice he recognized as Phichit’s.

 _Thank God, he’s still alive._ Yuuri pulled himself into a sitting position and looked around dazedly.

“Can you get up?”

“I – I think so.”

Phichit put his arm under Yuuri’s and helped him to stand. “Curtis and Bjorn are helping to keep those outlaws covered while the stagecoach driver fetches the sheriff. He’s borrowed Bjorn’s horse.” He looked at Yuuri, worry etched across his face. “What happened? Are you OK?”

Yuuri felt like collapsing again, from sheer relief that none of his colleagues had been killed, but also because he was horrified that his mental weakness had taken control in such a critical situation – this was the worst episode he’d ever had, by far – and it was _his fault_ that lives had been endangered. A shudder passed through his frame, and tears leaked down his cheeks.

“N-no, Phichit…I’m not.”

He’d never told anyone, not even Phichit, what had really happened to his biological parents, other than that they had died. Only Hank and Eva, along with a handful of others who had been in attendance at the original tragedy sixteen years ago, knew; and it was not something that was spoken of now.


	5. Chapter 5

The four Rafter T men made their way slowly back to the ranch, the only sound the clop of hooves and creak of leather saddles. Yuuri was aware of the tension hanging heavily in the air – Curtis and Bjorn unwilling or unable to look at him, and Phichit clearly uncertain of what to do. Finally, once they were nearing the house, the former two broke away, heading toward the stable, while Yuuri and Phichit brought their horses to a halt.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri called to the two men’s backs, having thought for a long time about what would be appropriate to say and drawing a blank. He received no response, and he didn’t try again. There was a tightness in his abdomen that was trying to squeeze every breath he drew back out.

“Yuuri…” Phichit said hesitantly, and his voice trailed away.

“OK, Phichit, please – I need you to tell me what happened back there. While I was…you know.”

So Phichit recounted the ordeal to him. How, when Yuuri cried out, all three of the outlaws jerked around at once and, catching sight of the ranch hands riding down the hill toward them, opened fire. It was an act of panic on their part, however, as they’d suddenly forgotten completely about the shotgun rider, who shot one of them in the foot – deliberately, it seemed, as he would have been wanting to avoid bloodshed as far as possible, and these young outlaws were obviously inexperienced. Getting into the standoff had been their first mistake, and all hell had broken loose once they’d heard Yuuri and the exchange of bullets began.

Surrounded by orders of “Throw down your weapons,” the two youths who were unharmed did so quickly, while the one who had been shot in the foot was already lying on the ground clutching at his wound. The passengers, seeing that things were in hand, had been sensible enough to stay inside the coach, so none of them had been in any immediate danger. Soon afterward, the sheriff had arrived with a deputy to take the outlaws to jail, and the stagecoach had been sent back on its way, the riders and passengers hardy folk who were eager to put the incident behind them.

“We were just lucky, I guess, that those bandits were pretty hopeless at what they were doing,” Phichit finished. “Otherwise…oh God, Yuuri, I’m sorry,” he added hastily, watching the look of consternation that crossed his friend’s face.

“I need to go,” Yuuri said in a distant voice, turning Biscuit toward the stable. 

***

 Yuuri lay on his bed, staring at the raftered ceiling but seeing nothing. How long he had been doing this, he was unsure. The candle on the table to the right burned slowly, driblets of wax gradually accumulating on their way down to the holder. The pocket watch next to it had said 3:10 a.m. the last time Yuuri had looked. There were dry tracks of tears on his face; he had none left to shed, and felt empty inside. Because of all the time he’d spent asleep that day, he reckoned, he was unable to find his way back into slumber now, when he really needed to. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten either, and was vaguely aware of a gurgling ache in his stomach.

No one had spoken much to him the past several days, since the stagecoach incident – not that he’d emerged from his room long enough to encourage it. Once or twice his father had begun to say something, but his mother would give Yuuri a concerned glance and then shush him. Yuuri was grateful for this at least, as he reckoned his father’s silence was better than a lecture. But he knew that the time he’d been spending by himself in his room was turning the worst parts of himself inward, pulling him down into a mire of self-doubt and recrimination that only perpetuated itself the stronger it got. Yuuri wasn’t sure what to do to stop it, and he felt himself starting to lose the will to care. Maybe this was what he deserved for putting Phichit’s and two other men’s lives in danger.

_That’s not the person I thought I was. I let myself and everyone else down._

How could he ever trust himself not to do that again? It had been a reaction that he was completely powerless to stop, and that was the most frightening thing about it. People would see him now as a loose cannon.

He reached for the brown leather hip flask, which was the third object on his desk. This was the only thing he could think to do to make himself sleepy on broken nights like this, especially when the recurrent thoughts about the stagecoach incident plagued him like a cloud of gnats that kept taking small, maddening bites. Yuuri was aware that drinking wasn’t an ideal solution. But for now, it was the only one he could think of; the only thing that offered a smidgen of comfort or relief, however transient. 

***

 He recognized his mother’s knock at his door. Opening it, he looked at her in askance, and she returned his gaze, taking in his dishevelled clothing, and no doubt the odors of cigarettes and alcohol emanating from his room as well. He hadn’t opened his window in a while.

“Let me guess,” he said in a flat voice. “My father wants to see me.”

She sighed and shook her head. “I think I got him to give up on that. He knows how upset you are about what happened…though I can’t pretend he understands it. And I can’t speak for the other men on the ranch either. But…” She fingered the ends of the frilly white apron that was tied around the waist of her gingham dress. “…well, I’m your mother, and I’m concerned about you. You’ve hardly left your room for a week. And to speak plain, you look like hell.”

“That’s no surprise,” Yuuri returned, walking back into his room and sitting on the edge of his bed, “because I _feel_ like hell.”

“Yuuri.” Eva followed him tentatively inside and stood in front of him. “Maybe staying in here all the time isn’t such a good idea. You can’t do this the rest of your life. At some point you’ve got to pull yourself together.”

Yuuri huffed. _Pull myself together. I had no idea it was so simple._

“Your father’s been hoping you could maybe start doing some things around the ranch again,” she continued in a cajoling voice. “I know you’ve always loved working with the horses. Maybe you could start with them. What do you reckon?”

“I don’t know.”

“Just give it some thought, OK?” 

***

Yuuri rode Biscuit into the stable, took her to her stall, and removed her tack and saddle – they’d been out for a visit to the foothills to see the last of the fall colors before they dropped off the trees; then he methodically went about feeding her and the other horses. After his mother’s words several days before, he’d grudgingly accepted that she had a point about a return to work helping him to feel a little better, though he knew it was also serving to make everyone else feel better as well because he was assisting with the chores again. But there was something about the mindless rhythm of the jobs he’d done for years that was comforting, and helped drive away the anxious thoughts that had taken up almost permanent residence in his brain. Keeping himself busy and active in the day also meant that he was sleeping better at night, and wasn’t reaching for the hip flask as often. He reckoned he’d already replenished it from his father’s whiskey stash more times than was good for him, as he’d built up quite a tolerance to its contents.

His father walked in as he was grooming Biscuit. “Good to see you back with the horses, son,” he said, watching him.

“Yeah,” was all Yuuri could think of to say.

After an awkward silence, Hank continued, “That guy from the Circle C came over here the other day, wanting to see you. You know, their horse trainer, that Russian guy – Vincent or something.”

“Victor,” Yuuri corrected him, his heart suddenly leaping at the thought that Victor had come to the ranch, asking for him by name. Why?

“I sent him away,” his father quickly explained. “I said you hadn’t been well. You can’t argue with me, looking and acting the way you were.”

Yuuri gasped and his eyes narrowed. “And how was it your decision to make to send him away? Did you even think of asking me first?”

“Now, son, if it’s getting you that mad, you know the Circle C isn’t far away. Go find out what he wanted. But I need you to tar the horses’ hooves, too; that job’s been waiting for a while.” With that, he turned and left.

Yuuri was on the verge of pursuing his father out of the stable when a thought struck him that drained away his indignation and replaced it with shame. By now, Victor would have heard some kind of version of events that had taken place with the stagecoach; the whole thing would be the subject of local gossip for weeks. Maybe it was just as well he hadn’t seen Victor. How could Yuuri face him after what he’d done?

But before his mind took a turn down darker roads that he’d already travelled so often lately, Yuuri recalled that day at the Circle C – the one where he felt his life would never be the same again after watching Victor perform those stunning tricks in the corral. He could see the pale, graceful man even now, vaulting himself around his galloping horse as if he hadn’t been doing anything more difficult than reading the morning paper. Those placid yet intense blue eyes; those long, elegant fingers; the bright smile that lit up his face…

Yuuri didn’t feel any less ashamed of himself, but his heart swelled in his chest as he remembered how inspired he’d been after what he’d seen. Maybe he could _use_ that feeling of inspiration to do something more fun and interesting in his life than ranch chores. He already could do some things with Biscuit, as well as the lasso work. While he didn’t have a trick saddle or any of the training and knowledge Victor obviously had, he felt confident enough in his ability to be able to work a few things out for himself, given time and practice. Everything he’d seen Victor do that day was seared clearly in his brain. He’d pick one or two of the tricks he thought he could handle as a relative beginner, and set out to discover their secrets.

Upon further reflection, he also knew he’d have to get into better shape. Not that there was anything wrong with him at the moment, he acknowledged, as the ranch chores and riding he did kept him fit enough; but he’d have to do more, and some specific things, he decided, if he wanted to succeed at the task he was setting out for himself. Daily exercises like push-ups and chin-ups for his arms – he’d have to find some kind of bar to use for the latter. Carry on chopping wood, to develop the muscles of his upper body. That was a task that needed doing at this time of year, and for months yet; the ranch hands in the bunkhouse had a rota, and Yuuri had no doubt some of them would be happy for him to take over their duties occasionally. Maybe he could find some steps or stairs to do some jumping and running on. These things would all build his strength, but then there was the issue of balance to consider as well; and that appeared to be just as important, if not more so. How could he work on that?

He continued to think as he went around the stable gathering what he needed to tar the horses’ hooves. _Dancers need balance._ Well he enjoyed dancing, and thought he wasn’t too bad at it. What would be a way to improve, then? Presumably he’d have to find some styles that were more physically demanding than the ones people tended to use at hoedowns. As he fetched a couple of small pails, he suddenly remembered Clarissa – something French; Arnaud, was it? – who occasionally performed song-and-dance shows at Sweetwater Sam’s saloon in town. She was an older woman rumored to have a colorful history, and a few times Yuuri had seen her do a European type of dancing called ballet that had allowed her to demonstrate more poise and suppleness than the usual performances expected by cowboys and miners and such folk. Maybe if Yuuri offered to pay her, she’d be willing to teach a bit of that to him. It was definitely an outré thing for him to even consider, but that didn’t bother him – in fact, it rather appealed. He smiled to himself as he got down to work.


	6. Chapter 6

Yuuri quickly located areas around the ranch where he would be able to perform his exercises without attracting too much attention. He intended to do as much in his bedroom as he could, however, as that was where he’d have the most privacy. The last thing he wanted was to have to explain to every passing ranch hand what he was up to – though when he asked whether they minded if he helped chop the firewood, he wasn’t met with a single objection.

He also had an urge to get himself and everything that belonged to him back into a presentably clean state, as if doing so would wash away the residue of the grime that had been choking him inside as well as out. He had a long bath in his family’s tin tub in the living room and gave himself the most thorough scrub he’d probably ever had. Afterward, he opened the window in his room as wide as it would go and pulled back the curtains to let in some sun. Shaving was his next priority. While his stubble only grew slowly, he had accumulated enough of it by now; and as he’d never seen another Japanese man who let his own grow, it was one of the few cultural traditions he was aware of that he tried to stick to. Finally, he passed all of his dirty clothes along to his mother for washing, with apologies for the size of the pile. His wardrobe wasn’t large, but he still had enough clean clothes left to get togged up and ready to go to Larkspur to find Clarissa.

This was what he did shortly after dinner. It felt strange going into town without Phichit, but he’d said little to his friend over the past several weeks, and Phichit clearly did not want to push Yuuri into anything he was uncomfortable with. It seemed that the best way to deal with what had happened was to work through it on his own, as he doubted Phichit would understand – how could he, when Yuuri didn’t himself? He still felt mortified by his actions that day, as well as drained due to all the emotions he’d been dealing with afterward; and self-doubt continued to try to eat around the edges of his thoughts. But he knew that focusing on what he planned to do in order to learn the trick riding was giving him the boost he needed to hold himself above it all.

He left Biscuit at the central corral and walked down the boardwalk to Sweetwater Sam’s. Yuuri didn’t know where Clarissa lived, but he figured someone inside would be able to tell him. It was early evening, though the progressively chill and weak November sun had set long before, and the saloon was illuminated with clusters of lanterns. Sam, the eponymous bartender, with thick slicked-back blond hair and small dishwater-gray eyes, was busy drying shot glasses on the counter, and there were maybe ten men scattered around the barroom minding their own business.

“Hi, Sam,” Yuuri said, going up to the bar and ordering a shot of whiskey as a courtesy. “I don’t suppose you know where Clarissa Arnaud lives, do you?”

“She’s just upstairs,” Sam answered, serving Yuuri his drink. “She’s probably free – in a manner of speaking – if you wanna pay her a visit.” A couple of men nearby snickered.

“Fine,” Yuuri said, ignoring them and downing his whiskey. “Which room?”

“Three. Just up the stairs.” He pulled at one side of his handlebar mustache. “Have a nice time,” he added.

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Yuuri followed the directions and spotted the wooden door with a gold-colored number ‘3’ on the outside. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. But even though she was getting on in years, he knew she was talented. Redoubling his resolve, he rapped on the door.

It was opened a minute later by a woman wearing a pink robe made out of some kind of satiny material edged at the sleeves and sides with a darker feathery pink fluff. She wore gold slip-on sandals, and her toes were painted with the same bright red as her fingernails and lips. She appeared to be in her late 40s or early 50s, though was clearly trying to look younger with a thick layer of make-up. She had light blue eyes and red hair that was piled up on top of her head. A pair of teardrop earrings the color of pearls dangled from her earlobes. Despite her ostentatious appearance, however, the expression on her face was curious rather than haughty or unfriendly. Yuuri recognized her as the woman he’d seen dancing on several occasions in the stage area of the saloon downstairs.

She looked Yuuri up and down, her eyes moving slowly and deliberately. “Hi,” she said simply, her gaze finally settling back to meet his own.

Yuuri removed his Stetson and introduced himself. “If I can step in for a moment, ma’am,” he said, “I’ve got a business proposition that might interest you.”

A weary look shadowed her features briefly, and she motioned him inside, shutting the door behind him. Yuuri scanned the apartment. It appeared to consist of one large living room, except for a closed door that presumably led to a bedroom. A maroon-colored sofa and set of matching chairs, full of fat cushions and draped with antimacassars, and somewhat the worse for wear, took up a deal of space in the middle, centered around a modest-sized cast-iron fireplace and hob that was sending out a blaze of heat. A dining table made out of some kind of dark wood stood in the shadows in the corner, with matching chairs that had curlicued carvings up their backs but, like the other furnishings, had clearly seen better days. Between the windows at the far end of the room was a black piano with yellowing keys. There was a sideboard nearby with an assortment of bottles and glasses on top. Heavy curtains of a purplish velvety material were draped around the walls and windows, and an area rug with an elaborate pattern stretched across most of the floor. A couple of oil lamps were lit, providing light that would have been adequate if it had not seemingly been swallowed the instant it fell on the dark, plush furnishings.   

“You can call me Clarissa – don’t bother with that ‘ma’am’ stuff; it makes me feel like I’m eighty,” she said in a voice that had a slightly hoarse edge as she walked over to the sideboard. Yuuri knew she was originally French, but there was a strange earthy note to her mild accent that indicated it was mixed with something else he couldn’t place.

She fiddled inside a drawer for a moment, then turned back around to look at Yuuri. His jaw dropped and his breath stopped in his throat when he saw that she had opened the front of her robe and was wearing absolutely nothing underneath. Seemingly unfazed by his stunned expression, she picked up a cigarette and lit it. “Where do you want to start?” she asked him in a businesslike tone, taking a deep drag. “Do you want to know my hourly rates, depending on what you want to do?”

Yuuri felt his cheeks flush scarlet. Of course – this was what the men downstairs had thought he’d come up here for. “That’s not the kind of business proposition I meant,” he said in a rush, his voice climbing higher with every word.

The ghost of an amused grin lifted the corners of her mouth as she unhurriedly closed her robe and tied the belt back up. “A shame,” she said; then after a pause – she seemed to be enjoying Yuuri’s embarrassment now – she took another drag and asked, “Well, cowboy, what do you want, then? My time’s valuable, you know.”

Yuuri swallowed and began to claw back some composure. “I know you’re a dancer – I’ve seen you do some performances downstairs.”

She approached him, took his hat from his hands, and placed it on the dining table. “Yeah?” Then she picked up a bottle on the sideboard, continuing to hold her cigarette with one hand. “Drink?”

“Um, not right now, thanks. Ma – Clarissa, is it true that you learned ballet in France? I thought for sure that was what I saw you dancing once or twice.”

She poured herself a drink, sipped it, and looked at him with frank curiosity now. “That’s right. But most people in this godforsaken dump of a place don’t even know what that is. This whole goddamn country is full of philistines, I’m tellin’ ya.”

The earthy note in her voice was heightened in her last sentence, and Yuuri was finally able to place its sound as being from New York – though only because he’d met a cowboy once who’d originally been from there. “My mother subscribes to a lot of magazines,” he told her. “I’ve seen ballet dancers in a few. They looked…strong and graceful. That’s the kind of dancing I want to learn. I don’t want to be able to perform on stage or anything,” he added as she continued to stare at him, seemingly in disbelief now. “I’m going to be learning some trick riding, and I need all the strength and balance I can get to be able to do it. I’ll be working out at the ranch, but I need your help to learn how to dance. Can I pay you for some lessons – here, if I come and see you?”

She laughed as she finished her drink and took another pull on her cigarette. “Are you for real?”

Yuuri crossed his arms and gave her what he hoped was an earnest yet determined look. “Yes.” He raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

She crushed out her cigarette in a dish on the sideboard and approached him with narrowed eyes, as if examining a bug under a magnifying glass. “Well I’d be lying if I said you hadn’t caught my interest. Do you have any dancing experience?”

“Not really – nothing apart from what folks do locally, anyway; but I’m not too bad at that.”

“This would be different from anything you’ve done before, you can be sure of it. Have you got any specialist dance kit? Clothes, shoes and so on?”

“No.”

“Then I guess bare feet and long johns will have to do, if I take you up on this. Now strip.”

Yuuri uncrossed his arms and his eyes shot open wide. “What?”

“You got long johns on now, don’t you? It’s cold out there, and a cowboy dresses for the weather. Believe me, I know.”

His skin prickling uncomfortably, Yuuri stared at her for a moment. If he allowed himself to continue to be intimidated by this woman, he would probably never have the courage to return after today. And he got the sense that she was challenging him in some way, perhaps trying to find out how sincere he was before she committed to what he wanted. He decided to take her up on it – what did he have to lose? Doing his best to keep a composed expression on his face, he removed everything he was wearing apart from his red knitted one-piece long johns, then stood and looked at her expectantly.

A flash of respect shone in her eyes and she nodded, then fetched one of the chairs from under the dining table and placed it backwards in front of him. “Put a hand on the back of this chair,” she told him. “It’s nice and sturdy, and just about the same height as a barre – that’s the rail a ballet dancer holds on to. I use these things myself to practice with.”

Yuuri complied, and she gave him instructions for how to strike and hold a variety of poses, some of which stretched muscles he never knew he had. She told him to point his right leg straight to the side as high and evenly as he could. “Hmm, nice and supple,” she said, and gave his calf a squeeze. “Plenty of muscle here, too.” She squeezed his thigh.

“Hey!” Yuuri protested, feeling like a prize cow at a fair. Was she was seriously interested in teaching him, or was this just an excuse to get him semi-naked and feel him up? 

Then she dropped her hand, stepped back, and told him he could relax. “You’ve already got some strength and sense of balance to work with,” she said, and her businesslike tone was back. “Maybe you’ve got some talent after all, though we won’t be able to tell much ’til you start. OK, you’ll do.”

Yuuri sighed in relief and began to put his outer clothes back on.

“You sure you don’t want…other services too, included at a discount?”

“No,” Yuuri said quickly and firmly as he shoved his boots back on.

She gave him an exaggerated look of sad regret, and they had soon negotiated a fee and lesson times of two nights a week. “One other thing I need to ask you,” Yuuri added. “You’ve got to promise me you won’t tell anyone else about these lessons. They’re…not the sort of thing people expect a cowboy to be doing.”

She laughed. “I’m paid for my discretion. You got no worries there.” 

***

“Yuuri, what are you doing?” Phichit asked in a bemused tone, looking up at him as he hung from the wooden beam that ran over the top of Biscuit’s stall in the stable.

With a startled “Oh,” Yuuri released his hold and dropped down to the ground. It was a cold January day, and the chill had crept in here to where the animals were. Yuuri had initially checked that they were warm enough, then jumped up to begin his exercises. Now he walked over to where he’d draped his tan sheep’s-wool coat and shrugged it on over his dark brown leather gloves.

“Well?” Phichit prodded, his breath coming out in a puff as it condensed in the air. He seemed to consider for a moment, then added, “I don’t mean to be nosy, but you’ve been acting kinda strange lately.” He looked up at the beam Yuuri had been clinging to a moment ago, and then back at his friend, curiosity etched across his features.

Yuuri paused to think, and then sighed. Not for the first time in his life, he asked himself why he’d felt it was so important to conceal so much from a friend like this, whom he knew he trusted. He wasn’t ashamed of what he had been doing – not even of visiting Clarissa for lessons, which had been going well; and he wasn’t afraid that Phichit would turn around and repeat anything Yuuri told him in confidence. But it was as if some instinctive part of him always believed it was better to keep things to himself than take the risk of sharing them with someone else, lest something somehow go wrong. He’d increasingly tried to fight this urge as he’d gotten older, however, because he knew it would be difficult to get close to anyone if he never opened up, and that was something he wanted as well – even though the thought of it could still be frightening.   

“I was doing chin-ups,” he explained with a little laugh. “I’m getting better at them. Fact is, I’ve been doing lots of different kinds of exercises lately.”

Phichit nodded. “Yeah, I’ve seen you running up and down the stairs to the root cellar like some headless chicken. So…what’s all this about?”

A pensive look settled into Yuuri’s features as he leaned on the side of the stall and watched Biscuit munch some hay. He reached out and stroked the mare’s neck absent-mindedly. “Well, you remember how upset I was after…” He paused, and Phichit nodded in understanding. It had been three months ago, but to Yuuri it might as well have been yesterday. He cleared his throat and continued. “Well, I got to thinking about how inspired I was when I saw what Victor at the Circle C could do. And I thought it would cheer me up if I tried to learn a few of those things myself. So I’ve been building up my strength, and I’ve been working with Biscuit to see what she and I could do together.”

He winced as the right side of his hip came into contact with the planking of the stall. That had been a regular part of the experimentation, of course – falling, and hard. There were at least a dozen deep purple bruises on different parts of his body that he knew about, and more whose presence he suspected but couldn’t see. There was also a fiery pain deep within his right thigh where he’d pulled something while trying to move around on the saddle, but it was gradually dulling as the days went by. Yuuri told himself that it was just more of the sort of punishment that cowboys were used to dealing with day in and day out anyway, and he’d faced it with stoical acceptance as the price he’d expected to have to pay for what he was trying to accomplish. Clarissa hadn’t been very approving, however, as she watched him wince while he stretched, bent, and even did jetés within the limited confines of her apartment; and he felt sure those activities had added to the pervasive throb of pain.

One of the first things he’d done after he’d started the lessons was to go on the hunt for something that could serve as a barre. He’d finally found an old wooden chair with the varnish half-worn off in the junk shed and taken it to his room, where he could practice with it. He did the stretches that Clarissa had taught him every day, and was pleased to find that his movements were gradually gaining more range as he limbered up. He could even sit on the floor and do a full side split, though he would never dare to try it wearing ordinary pants. In the privacy of his room he also did push-ups, eventually challenging himself by keeping one hand tucked behind his back so that all his weight was on the other arm, and experimented with handstands, using the wall to kick off and fall onto as he tried to master a sense of balance. How Victor could do this on the back of a moving horse was a never-ending source of puzzlement; it would take a great deal of time just to be able to do it on a horse that wasn’t going anywhere at all.

What he _could_ now do was stand right side up on top of the saddle itself, rather than just in the stirrups. He’d bought some extra-long reins in town and made sure Biscuit was used to them first, but in the end he’d been pleased to find that it hadn’t been impossible to modify the riding he’d already been doing to take it to this extra degree of difficulty. In fact, he’d practiced his lasso tricks from this lofty position as well, and reckoned they’d look even better now. He’d taken Biscuit through everything very slowly at first, and gradually had worked up to a full gallop. Instinctively he would try to anticipate her movements and imagine they were part of him, surrendering to the rhythm and making his own movements in accord. It seemed to be working better than ever before, though he knew he still had a long way to go.

The one specific trick of Victor’s that he’d chosen to try to reproduce exactly as he’d seen it was proving to be more of a challenge, and just that morning it had resulted in a disconcerting accident where Yuuri had been dislodged from the saddle and was holding on to the horn with both hands while his boots dragged helplessly across the ground. Biscuit had been spooked when he’d attempted to vault from facing forward to facing backward too quickly, and until he’d been able to calm her down, he’d scuffed a good six months’ worth of wear into the soles of his boots in about twenty seconds. Fortunately no ranch hands had been around to see this, or he felt sure it would have been a great source of amusement. He didn’t have a trick saddle with all the benefits it provided, which he knew was a handicap, but he was determined to succeed in what he was doing without it. He wanted to show Victor that he could lie down on the saddle facing backwards and stretch himself out – and he was just about there, despite his percentage of falls still being what he considered unacceptably high. It filled him with an electric thrill when he could make it work, though _making it work_ wasn’t enough – he wanted to be the epitome of grace, as far as he could be, just like Victor. And maybe then Yuuri could seek him out and feel like they stood on a more equal footing, the urge to hide in shame banished at last.

“You already do some amazing stuff on Biscuit with a lasso,” Phichit observed in response to Yuuri’s words. “But if you’re having a good time learning how to do some new tricks, I can’t wait to see them. In fact…” He gave Yuuri a knowing smile. “…just last week I was over at the Circle C with Zach. I…um, you’ve been busy a lot of the time, or I might have asked you to come with us…”

Yuuri suddenly felt guilty for having neglected his friend. “It’s OK. So what did you get up to?”

“We took a couple of cows with us that Mr. Connor was thinking about buying. But the part you’ll really like is that we met up with your idol.” His eyes glittered in mirth.

“He’s not my _idol_ ,” Yuuri said, swatting at Phichit’s arm. _Though on second thought, maybe that’s not a bad description_. “I take it you’re referring to Victor.”

“Of course.” Phichit was clearly enjoying this, knowing Yuuri would be hanging on every word. “And we persuaded him to do some of his trick riding out in the corral. That horse of his is a beauty, by the way.”

“What did you see?” Yuuri asked eagerly, and Phichit told him. It sounded like a similar demonstration to what he’d witnessed himself several months back. Then he gave a start – was it really that long ago?

“Yuuri, it was amazing,” Phichit was saying. “You were right. I’d never seen anything like it before. But if you’re trying to do some of those things yourself, don’t you think they’re kind of dangerous?”

Yuuri shrugged. “I guess they’re dangerous for Victor too. We’re all cowboys, Phichit; we live dangerously.”

“That’s a curious thing for you to say.” When Yuuri didn’t answer, he added, “He was asking after you, you know. Wondering if you were OK. I told him I’d pass the message on.”

“Thanks.” Yuuri imagined meeting Victor again and grinned. Soon.


	7. Chapter 7

_Something isn’t quite right_ , Yuuri thought as he bent his knees and moved his right arm in what he hoped were graceful circles.

“Degage into grande battement,” Clarissa ordered. She was leaning with her back against the sideboard, dressed today in a low-cut brown gown with hints of red that fell in heavy folds to the floor. The customary cigarette and glass of whiskey were held in each hand as she watched Yuuri critically. “Lift your free leg up more,” she told him. “And don’t bend the one you’re standing on.” She took a sip of her drink.

Yuuri stole a glance at himself in the full-length mirror on the wall opposite his practice chair. His lessons had fallen into a predictable routine. Clarissa was teaching him suitably demanding material; she didn’t tolerate sloppiness, and was quick to point out his mistakes. At the same time, she generally spoke approvingly when they briefly reviewed each lesson toward the end, and had stepped down her efforts to persuade Yuuri to partake of her “other services” to just a few more halfhearted “you can’t blame a lady for trying” attempts. But Yuuri was learning these things with the hope of somehow translating them into a performance on his horse, and he’d made no progress in crossing the bridge between standing here at the “barre” and that. There was an essence, a feeling, he wanted to capture and transmit that was somehow lacking. He thought once again about what Victor had done, recalling in his mind’s eye how he had moved.

“What is it, honey?” Clarissa asked as she watched him stop and stare at the mirror. She put her drink down, crushed out her cigarette and walked up behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder, which was covered in his customary red one-piece long johns. There were glittering silver rings on her fingers. “Something’s distracting you. Do you want me to slow down?”

“No, that’s not it,” Yuuri replied in a quiet voice. “I was just thinking about the way I want to look when I do my tricks on my horse. How I want to move. There’s more to it than strength and balance.”

“Ah, _oui_ ,” Clarissa said with an understanding smile. “A presence is what you want.”

“Yeah…something like that.”

“But what kind, is the question. What role will you be playing, hmm? The rugged cowboy?” She stared at him with a smirk. “The showman? Something else?”

“I…” Yuuri continued to stare at their reflection, a realization creeping into his consciousness that was new, intriguing, and unsettling. “I think it’d help if I made my movements more feminine somehow. It’s hard to explain…I mean, it’s something subtle that I’m after, but I think it could make a big difference. It would feel more true to myself, and I think I might be able to put more grace into what I’m doing if I’m in that mindset. Does that make any sense?”

Clarissa looked at him as if she were seeing him for the first time. “Maybe. I think so. Wait here a minute.” She disappeared into her bedroom and reappeared a moment later, carrying a white garment in silky folds. “Give this a try,” she said, and she held it up by the shoulders to reveal a plain, sleek robe.

“What?” Yuuri said in disbelief, but her expression was serious.

“Pretend you’re an actor getting into your role. Get outta them long johns and into this, and see if you feel any different. Don’t worry – ” She cocked him a smile. “ – I’ll turn around while you get changed.” She handed him the robe and went over to the sideboard to pour herself another drink.

Yuuri stood there, looking at the waterfall of white. If any of the men on the ranch could see what he was doing now…He gave a mental shudder. Was he really going to let her persuade him to do this? But then, well, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try. It wasn’t as if she’d dug out her fluffy pink ensemble and asked him to wear it. This was something that could suit a man as well as a woman – plain, yet elegant at the same time. He peeled off his long johns and wrapped the robe around himself, liking the feel of the slippery material and the way it fell over his shoulders. The wrists were open and loose but as unadorned as the rest of the garment. There was a hint of perfume suffused in its folds. As he was tying it around his waist, he saw in the mirror that Clarissa was approaching. How far she’d kept to her promise not to look while he was changing was something he decided not to dwell on. Continuing to gaze into the mirror, he was surprised to see that he looked like a proper Japanese person for the first time in his life. He knew that even men wore similar things to this in that country.

“It suits you,” Clarissa said approvingly. “Now, let’s see what we can do to adjust some of the exercises and poses you’ve been working on.”

For the next hour and a half, that was what they did. Clarissa was rather more hands-on than was strictly necessary, Yuuri thought as she shifted his limbs and hips around – and he had to make sure he didn’t reveal too much when he stuck a leg out; but his patience was paying off as he relaxed into the movements to a degree he’d never been able to achieve before. While he arched his back slightly, or tilted his hips, or stretched out his hands and fingers, he focused on channeling a different side of himself into his movements, using the liquid feeling of the robe as inspiration as the sleeves fell back and the folds wrapped around him like…a lover?

That was it. He needed to entice his audience. Not in an obvious way, but enough to catch their attention and leave them spellbound. Like Victor had done to him.

Clarissa hadn’t said much toward the end of the lesson, but had simply stood and watched, commenting briefly once in a while as Yuuri experimented with different poses. Finally she sighed, “You’re gonna end up leaving a string of broken hearts behind you, of both persuasions.” Then, hardening her voice, she added, “You’re distracting me, standing there like that. Go on, turn yourself back into a cowboy. I’ll be in there for a few minutes.” She gave him a glance and then disappeared into her bedroom.

Yuuri found that he was loath to take the robe off and get back into his ordinary clothes. He struck another pose, holding his arms in the air, then slowly lowering them to wrap around his head and neck as he leaned back slightly. He’d never _played_ with his sexuality like this before, never given it any kind of free rein. It had always felt like just an occasional need that he’d gotten good at ignoring. He’d never thought about it like this, let alone focused on it and allowed himself to really _feel_ it. This was different…exciting, meeting part of himself that had always been there, and discovering he liked it.

He’d never answered Clarissa’s question about what role he was playing. _Seducer,_ he thought. And yet, this wasn’t a completely foreign experience for him. Something felt familiar about it, which was odd and rather confusing, because he couldn’t recollect actually being in this state of mind at any time before.

Maybe it had been in his dreams, he decided with a mental shrug as he removed the robe and worked himself back into his long johns and cowboy clothes. 

***

The sharp January wind bit at the Rafter T men’s faces as they rode down snowy paths across the foothills, preparing to move cattle to new feeding pastures. Mostly the animals were free to roam the open range, but they occasionally needed shepherding to the best and safest areas. The white sky indicated the possibility of more snow, but often the threat did not materialize east of the mountains, where the moisture could simply dry up before it reached the ground.

When they approached the main part of the herd, a group of Circle C men was already there, separating the cattle according to their brands. Yuuri and Phichit were in the vanguard as the Rafter T men rode in. Learning to trust himself again to lead like this was something Yuuri was finding difficult; but like falling off a horse, he thought, you had to get back up. He was certain they would come across no stagecoaches out here at this time of year, so it had seemed like a safe enough gamble.

“Let’s go talk to them and put some kind of organized plan in action,” Yuuri said to his friend. They were both wearing their warmest winter clothes – sheepskin hats, gloves, heavy coats, and several layers underneath. This had to be the most desolate land to live in during the winter, Yuuri thought, with nothing in the distance apart from a white desert with flashes of gray and purple rock and occasional stands of pines peeking out from underneath the snow cover further into the mountains. He gave Biscuit’s side a gentle squeeze with his thigh, and she turned and approached the Circle C men. To his surprise, Victor was among them, wearing a curious-looking fur hat of a type he’d never seen before whose flaps dangled over his ears.

“Yuuri,” Victor greeted him, pronouncing his name in the way Yuuri remembered, with the middle vowel sound drawn out and the ‘R’ rounded.

“Hi,” Yuuri said with a smile. “Looks like we’ve got some work here to do.”

Victor nodded. “The men from my ranch have made a start. If you get yours to join in, we can get done in no time and be sitting next to a stove by evening,” he said pleasantly. “Want to come with me and look for strays like we did before?”

Yuuri was quick to agree, and soon they were crisscrossing the land with swinging lassoes. It was every bit as exciting as when he’d been doing this with Victor in the fall, Yuuri decided, though his face was raw and chapped from the cold. The other men had gone in different directions; most of them were urging the main herd along, while others like Yuuri and Victor were working together to keep strays in check or guard the back of the herd. Phichit had ridden off with one of the horsemen from the Circle C, a blond Texan by the name of Chris, both wanting to practice their lasso skills. Yuuri watched as the pair headed north to the area outside of a canyon called Miner’s Corner. This was a box canyon with steep sides that animals had a penchant for wandering into and getting stuck in, as there was only one narrow way in or out unless they could climb like a goat. Yuuri had rescued a few strays there himself before. He watched Phichit and Chris for a while, then turned his attention back to Victor.

As they rode side by side, Victor asked him how things had been lately at the Rafter T and mentioned in a casual tone that he hadn’t seen him in a while, and hoped everything was OK. Yuuri answered that he’d encountered some problems, but they’d been dealt with, and asked if it would be all right to visit him at the Circle C soon, to which Victor readily acceded. A shiver went down Yuuri’s spine. It was official now: that would be the day when he showed Victor what he’d been learning. He never felt quite ready enough, but months had already slipped away since Yuuri had last seen him, and he knew that waiting any longer would probably just be a delaying tactic on his own part as he tried to work up his courage.

They noticed the foreman of the Circle C whistling and gesturing in the distance. Yuuri and Victor were separated from the other men by a significant swath of white now. “I’d better go see what he wants,” Victor said, and made to leave.

“Victor,” Yuuri called, “a quick question? I’m curious. The hat – ? Is it something from Russia?”

He gave Yuuri a grin. “One of the few things I brought here that hasn’t fallen apart yet from use. It’s called a ushanka. Do you like it?”

“It suits you.”

“ _Spasibo_.” He waved. “I’ll be back.”

Yuuri watched his diminishing form cross the field of snow, then decided he ought to carry on looking for strays while he was waiting. Gazing at his surroundings, he suddenly noticed a plume of black smoke rising above the jagged rocks in the direction of Miner’s Corner. Yuuri urged Biscuit forward, scanning the area for Phichit and Chris but seeing nothing but white. Had they gone inside?

Guiding his horse into a gallop now, Yuuri heard an explosion as he neared the entrance to the canyon. It was too loud to have been gunfire. More smoke shot up. And then his forward progress was halted by the debris of a rockslide where the entrance should have been. His heart hammering at his chest, Yuuri cupped his hands to his mouth. “Phichit! Chris!” he called.

There was no response, apart from the echoes of his cries off the cliff face.

***

Yuuri did not know that when Phichit and Chris had arrived at Miner’s Corner to perform what they had thought would be a routine job that would sharpen their cowboy skills, they were in for an unpleasant surprise. The pair were chatting idly, having been casually acquainted for some time, as they guided their horses through the entrance, each holding his rope in one hand, ready to swing it if he spotted a stray.

“I’ve always thought it’s kind of eerie in here,” Phichit said, looking up and around. “It makes your voice sound strange, like the walls are swallowing it up.”

Chris started to reply, when surprise and alarm suddenly spread across his face. “Phichit, git back!” he shouted as he drew his gun.

Phichit followed his aim with his eyes and took in several things at once.

There was a grizzly bear not many yards ahead of them, off to the left, that had obviously killed one steer and begun to attack another; the growls now carried across the air.

And behind the bear was the entrance to an old abandoned mine. It was only a hole partway up the hillside that had been boarded up, and scattered around it and in other nearby caches were stacks of wooden crates. Recent snows had fallen and drifted across them to the point where they had been mostly buried. Phichit didn’t think the mine entrance was anything they needed to worry about, but the bear was – and maybe the crates as well.

He started to shout a warning to his companion to be cautious, but all he managed was “Chris – ” before the Texan opened fire and shot several bullets in quick succession.

The bear pitched over, and the other bullets found their way to some of the wooden crates, which promptly exploded into a massive ball of flame that shot black smoke into the sky. The heat and impact of the blast were enough to blow men and horses back, and Phichit and Chris found themselves flung to the ground. For a while they were so dazed that they were unable to move. Phichit vaguely took in the sounds of rocks falling and terrified animals, and the ground beneath him was wet with flowing rivulets of melted snow. Before he could fully take all of this in, he heard another blast nearby, and the earth shook.

When he was able to lift his head, he saw that there were more wooden crates near those that had already exploded; flames still licked at the broken planks scattered around. Clear now of snow, there were red letters stamped across one of the unexploded crates that read “Danger: TNT.”

“Chris!” he cried. “We have to get out of here!”

“Wha – Phichit? What happened?” came the Texan’s voice from somewhere in front of him.

“Those crates are full of TNT! If the rest of them go up, we’re goners!”

That was when he discovered he had been closer to the rockslide than he realized, and he was incapable of moving his right leg.

***

Yuuri had wasted no time once he’d taken in the facts of the explosion and the rockslide. It seemed a safe assumption that Phichit and Chris had been trapped inside the canyon when something had gone wrong, and there was no question in his mind that his first duty was to make sure they were brought to safety. He’d already let Phichit down once, and he refused to consider the possibility of failing him a second time now.

Being familiar with the area, Yuuri knew of a path that he might be able to take as an alternate route into the canyon. It required a steep climb up and then a precipitous and narrow one back down – perhaps in the past used occasionally by miners on sentry duty, and long neglected; but it was the only possibility he could think of. With the two missing men foremost in his mind, Yuuri sped Biscuit past cliffs and stands of pines, and finally spotted the start of the path, beginning the climb up without a pause. Rocks pinged away as the horse’s hooves dislodged them, and more than once she slipped on an icy patch, but Yuuri spoke soothing words in her ear and she did not falter. Just as they crested what appeared to be the final hill before they reached the top of the cliff, another explosion from below trembled the earth.

“Phichit!” Yuuri shouted in dismay, dismounting and hurriedly leading Biscuit up to a vantage point where he could get some idea of what lay below. The path dropped at a dizzying slope into the canyon, but there was now too much smoke for him to be able to see any underlying features or movement. He was about to take a step onto the downward path when he felt a gloved hand on his shoulder, and spun around to see Victor standing there with Luchik next to him.

“You’re being either very brave or very stupid,” Victor breathed. “Phichit and Chris are missing, and no one knew where you’d gone. I just managed to catch sight of you before you disappeared into the trees. Were you going to go down into that?” He indicated the cauldron of black smoke filling the canyon below.

“Victor – I’m sure Chris and Phichit are down there,” Yuuri explained quickly. “They went this way to look for strays, and you can usually find some in here – it’s a box canyon. These explosions seem to have caused a rockslide, and I don’t know if either of them are aware this path is here, or can reach it. They may be hurt.” He had to go, _now_. “Do what you want – I’ve got to find them!” Without a glance back, he started to pick his way down the path, just behind Biscuit, whose hooves were again skittering pebbles from the glazed path.

“Yuuri, I’m coming with you!” he heard Victor call behind him.

Soon Yuuri found it necessary to pull his bandanna over his nose and mouth to protect himself from the thickening smoke. He and Biscuit slid often as they walked down the incline, and Yuuri was worried that Victor or his horse might come crashing into them from further up, but the other man kept a good margin between them, seemingly to provide for that possibility. After a timeless spell of struggling and coughing, Yuuri finally felt flat earth under his feet, and found himself standing in a twilight world of yellow and black smoke. He hacked in a dry throat and watched Victor draw up with Luchik behind him. Both men lowered their bandannas so that they could talk.

“You seem to know this place,” Victor said in a cracked voice as he rested a hand on Yuuri’s arm. “It doesn’t look that big. Where do you think they could be?”

“Noplace is likelier than any other,” he answered; then he cupped his hands to his mouth and started calling Phichit’s and Chris’s names. Victor did the same, and they began to move along the cliff face toward the blocked entrance. The smoke thickened as they went, and even with the protection of their bandannas they found it a struggle to breathe. Yuuri was thankful that there had at least been no further explosions since he had stood at the top of the canyon.

“We must be near the entrance,” he said. “You’re right – this place isn’t that big.” When he called the names out this time, he thought he heard a faint response from behind the smoke bank to his left.

“That sounded like Chris,” Victor said, grabbing Yuuri’s arm and pointing. “It came from over there – come on!”

Both of them hurried in the direction whence the voice had come, calling out Chris’s name. This time when his answering call came, there was no mistaking it: “Over here! We need help!”

Heartened by the word _we_ , Yuuri sped alongside Victor, their horses keeping pace next to them, though all were coughing and gasping. At last the haze in front of them parted to reveal two cowboys on the ground. One was Phichit, lying on his side with his right leg pinned underneath the rockfall, moaning. Chris was frantically trying to remove the rocks imprisoning his companion, but it was slow work, and it would have taken him a long time on his own, if indeed he could have managed it at all.

“Victor,” Chris said, “help me. This kid’s gonna die here if we don’t git him out. We all will.”

Both Yuuri and Victor dashed over, pulling their bandannas back down from their faces and grabbing at rocks, helping each other to lift the heavier ones. “Phichit, we’re going to get you out of there,” Yuuri said, and he thought he detected a low noise in response.

“What were those explosions?” Victor asked as he worked.

“Crates of TNT,” was the curt reply from Chris. “I’ll explain later. But there’s more over there that might go off, with them fires burnin’ all around.”

Victor and Yuuri scanned their surroundings and spotted the wooden boxes with their stamps in angry red letters. “Oh my god,” Yuuri gasped, and redoubled his efforts in lifting the rocks. “Who the hell just leaves that stuff lying around?”

“Do you know where your horses are?” Victor asked Chris.

“No idea. Dead, probably. We’re lucky not to be the same. Those were some mighty big explosions. I’d rather not stick around for the next one.”

“I think we’re about there,” Yuuri said as he flung away yet another heavy stone. In seconds, the three men had succeeded in freeing Phichit to the extent that they could pull him away from the rockslide, though he groaned in pain as they did so. His right leg was bent at an unhealthy angle.

“Phichit, I’m sorry, but this is going to hurt,” Yuuri warned him. “We don’t have time to make a stretcher or a splint.” To Victor and Chris he said, “Can you pass him up to me once I’m on my horse?” They nodded and did so, with loud protests from Phichit that made Yuuri want to cringe. Phichit was now slumped in the saddle in front of him, within the protective confines of his arms, though it was a difficult and dangerous position for them both to ride in. The thought of trekking back up the frozen path in such a state shot a bolt of fear down Yuuri’s spine.

Victor mounted his own horse, and Chris climbed up behind. The smoke was lifting, though slowly, as no breeze seemed to be able to find its way down to the box canyon. “Let’s stay as close together as we can,” Victor said to Yuuri, who nodded; and they both urged their horses forward as quickly as they dared through the smoke.

“Do you know the way back to the path?” Yuuri called – but his last words were drowned out by a deafening explosion behind them and to their left, where some of the unexploded crates of TNT had been stacked; a lick of flame or a spark must have found its way to causing more mischief. He cried Victor’s name, but the roaring of the fire swallowed it, and he choked and gasped as a new wave of oily black smoke swept over him. A searing pain shot up his left arm.

Knowing that his and Phichit’s lives were hanging in the balance, Yuuri veered Biscuit to the right, his foremost thought their need to escape the worst of the smoke and be able to breathe. He pulled his bandanna over his face again and leaned forward to do the same for Phichit, at the same time guiding Biscuit to weave through clouds of smoke and into patches of clearer air where they could fill their lungs. Soon Yuuri had lost his sense of where they were, but he knew that if he could find the cliff face, he could follow it around the canyon and back to the path – that was, if the smoke didn’t get to them first.

After what felt like hours, every rasping breath spiking pain through his burning throat, Yuuri saw a rocky wall between curtains of smoke and rode toward it, placing a grateful hand on its cool surface. But which way should he follow it? If he chose wrong, he could be leading them back to their deaths. He made the best guess he could, based on the position of the sun in the sky, where he could discern its yellow smear between the dark billowing clouds; and was soon rewarded with what he recognized as the bottom of the path he’d traveled down.

Panting with relief as his lungs grasped at the clearing air, Yuuri climbed off Biscuit, positioned the semiconscious Phichit as well as he could on the saddle so that he was at the least risk of falling off, and took the reins, guiding the mare back up the precarious path. There was no sign of Victor or Chris, and Yuuri felt sick with fear for them. But he knew if he went back down to search, only death awaited. He had to hope that they had made it out.

His left arm throbbed painfully; he’d forgotten about it in his scramble to get out of the canyon. Glancing down at it, he saw that the cuff of his coat had been burned away, and there was a strip of skin on his forearm the size of a dollar bill that was angry, raw and oozing. It hurt, but it was by no means life-threatening, and the only thing he could do for now was carry on.

“Phichit, can you hear me?” he asked after a worrying stumble. He had paused to allow himself and Biscuit to steady their nerves. The young man did not speak or move, and Yuuri grabbed his hand to take his pulse. It was faint but present, and he sighed and wiped at his grime-covered forehead. “Come on, Biscuit. Let’s get out of here.”

Eventually Yuuri could see the crest of the clifftop up above, and he thought no sight had ever been more welcome to him as he guided Biscuit up the remaining few yards. But when he reached the top of the path and could see the other side that sloped downward, he thought he would collapse with relief when he spied Victor and Chris with Luchik nearby, the stallion nonchalantly munching at the grass.

“Yuuri!” A mixture of surprise and concern crossed Victor’s face as he darted forward and helped him to stand. “We didn’t know if we’d see either of you again.” There was a ring to his words, as if the emergence of the survivors had filled him with sheer joy. “Thank goodness. Are you hurt?”

Yuuri coughed and doubled over slightly, but gently batted Victor’s fussing arms away. “I think I’ll be OK,” he said, and somehow managed a smile.

“You’ve been burned.” Victor lifted Yuuri’s left arm and examined his wound. “We need to get you to a doctor.”

“Phichit ain’t been too lucky either,” Chris said, looking the injured young man over, but leaving him in his position on Yuuri’s horse. “I think he’s comin’ around.”

“W-where am I?” Phichit asked weakly, trying to lift his head. Then he rasped a breath and coughed.

“I’d better look after him on the way back,” Yuuri said, helping Phichit to sit up and then climbing back onto Biscuit so that he was once again positioned behind his friend. “There was an explosion in the canyon and you got trapped under a rockslide,” Yuuri told him. “We need to get you into town; I think we need to see the doctor.”

***

The ranch hands were waiting eagerly for news of the four missing men, and were glad to see them all return from the canyon, albeit with injuries. As they continued to gather the cattle, Victor, Chris, Yuuri and Phichit carried on straight to Larkspur on the two horses, worried that any delay might be costly, especially for the Thai. On the way, Chris explained what had happened in the canyon. “I should’ve realized there was a good reason why that place got the name of Miner’s Corner. I’m so dumb sometimes, I couldn’t drive nails into a snowbank. I should’ve seen them TNT crates behind the grizzly. Phichit even tried to warn me, but that’s my Texas blood for ya – shoot first and ask questions later.”

Victor reassured Chris that he was simply glad everyone had come out alive, and he said he would inform the sheriff of all the dangerous explosives that had been left behind by the miners. The lawman could also send some men out to check and see if there were any unexploded crates left, as well as any trace of Chris’s and Phichit’s horses. This he left to do as they arrived at the doctor’s surgery.

Chris, who had promised Victor that he would ask to be checked over as well, received a clean bill of health; Yuuri’s burn was cleaned and wrapped in bandages; and Phichit had a break in his lower leg set. He was given a pair of crutches and told that it would be weeks before he could return to his usual duties at the ranch. The doctor left them talking in the front room while he disappeared into his consulting room with another patient who had been waiting.

Fortunately things weren’t all bad, Phichit insisted, as he could still be of some use around his parents’ store while he was healing up – even if it was just to count beans. Yuuri laughed and commented that his friend could find the silver lining in every cloud. Phichit rejoined that it was easy when his life had just been saved – “and thanks, by the way.”

“You’re both heroes,” Chris said solemnly as Victor entered the building. “We would’ve died if you hadn’t come after us. Victor and Yuuri, I owe you both a debt of gratitude.”

Yuuri blushed, though for once he doubted if anyone noticed under the layer of soot and grime that covered his face. Victor just smiled at Chris and said that friends didn’t owe each other any debts. Then he approached Yuuri and said, “Can I have a word? The parlor next door looks like it’s free.”

Curious, Yuuri nodded and followed him. He had gone through his ritual of putting his glasses on, rolling a quirly, tucking his glasses back into his vest pocket and lighting up, and carried the cigarette with him. Victor removed his coat and Russian hat; Yuuri had already taken his outer garments off when his burn had been tended. This time when he looked into those blue eyes, he was surprised to see something akin to admiration there.

“Yuuri…” Victor began, but he seemed to be at a loss for how to continue. Yuuri waited patiently, though inside he was burning to know what this was about. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. How would you like to come to the Circle C and be my apprentice?”

Yuuri paused to take this in. “Apprentice?” he echoed in surprise.

“If you’re interested, that is,” Victor went on. He sounded hesitant; uncertain of Yuuri’s response. “I’d be happy to teach you everything I know.”

“I – I…”

“But if you don’t want to, I’d understand. It would be a big commitment on your part.”

Yuuri blinked in stunned silence. In his wildest dreams, he’d never imagined such an offer would come his way. He swallowed, took a last puff of his quirly, ground it out in a nearby ashtray and told himself that this was really happening, and Victor was waiting for his answer. “I’d love to,” he said, and this was followed by an embarrassingly dopey smile.

Victor returned it, his eyes lighting up. “Great.” He paused, clearly trying to think what to add. “We’ve got a lot to discuss, then.”

“But…” Yuuri said, recalling why he’d been avoiding Victor for months. Victor’s face fell as he waited for what came next. “I’m…weak, Victor. I guess you heard about what happened with the stagecoach last October. I – ”

“Yuuri, you’re not weak, and no one thinks you are,” Victor interrupted, gazing at him with sincerity. “You’re a skilled horseman, and you have courage and a stout heart, as you showed everyone today. I’d be proud to work with you and teach you, and I imagine you could teach me a thing or two in return.” He chuckled. “We’ve been short of help in the stables at the Circle C for a while, and I’m pretty sure Abe Connor would be delighted if you were willing to come over and join us – I doubt he’d expect such an experienced ranch hand to apply. Though of course we’d also want some time to work together, you and me.” His smile was warm and there was promise in his eyes. “What do you say?”

Yuuri’s brown eyes danced as he returned the smile. “In that case, you’ve got a deal.”


	8. Chapter 8

“All I’m saying, son, is that if you wanted be apprenticed to someone in a trade, that’s something you should’ve done ten years ago, not now.”

Yuuri was in his room, going through his dresser drawers and packing. He didn’t have many possessions, and would not be taking them all with him, so he figured he’d just be able to haul his cowboy gear and essentials over to the Circle C on Biscuit without the need for a packhorse. Victor had told him to come when he was ready, and it was early Saturday morning, two days after the incident in Miner’s Corner. Yuuri’s arm was slowly healing, he’d gotten his coat mended and patched, and he’d spent a lot of contented time thinking about what to expect and what he wanted from his new life at the Circle C. He’d been with the ranch hands and inside the bunkhouse often enough to know that he’d be giving up his privacy and creature comforts, such as his mother’s home cooking and hot baths as often as he wanted them, but it seemed a small price to pay for the privilege of being able to work with Victor. And not only work with him, but be his one and only pupil.

He still couldn’t believe Victor had made him such an offer – and without Yuuri having yet shown him any of the trick riding he’d been learning. At some point, the motivation for his efforts in that regard had shifted from cheering himself up to becoming worthy of Victor’s time and attention – but it seemed that Victor hadn’t needed any kind of demonstration of Yuuri’s skill. It was strange, but exciting, and Yuuri was looking forward to showing Victor the – admittedly little – he’d learned how to do.

“Yuuri, your place is here at the Rafter T,” Hank Taylor continued. Today he was wearing a smart three-piece black suit and tie instead of the habitual upmarket cowboy-style clothes, as he was planning on going into Larkspur for a business meeting; and he had slicked his thinning hair back with pomade. Eva Taylor stood in the hallway in her customary gingham dress and apron, listening to the conversation with a look of consternation, but saying little.

“My place is where I decide it is,” Yuuri muttered, folding up a flannel shirt and tucking it into a leather bag along with his other clothes. He sighed, gathering his patience, and looked at his father. “I’ve lived here for sixteen years. I’ve learned everything I need to know about running a ranch and working on it. This is a chance I never thought I’d get to do something different, someplace else. I can learn a lot from Victor – you haven’t seen him; he’s the most talented horseman around here. This is an opportunity I can’t pass up.” He hunted through another drawer and pulled out some red woollen socks, which he also threw into his bag.

“Have you signed a contract?” Hank asked him. “How do you know they’ll keep to their side of the bargain over there? Or do you even know the details yet? How long are you planning to stay?”

“I don’t know. I’ll tell you when I do. I won’t be far away if you need me.”

“Yuuri,” his mother began, “why is this something you need to do now? I thought you’d be looking to get married and carry on with your life here. I’ve always told you I’d be more than willing to help out with any children.”

Yuuri paused again and counted to three in his head before replying. “Mom, we’re not having that conversation again right now. And I’m only twenty-three. I’ve got plenty of time yet.” He again pulled out the drawers of his dresser, double-checking he hadn’t left behind anything that he needed, then looked again at Hank. “By the way, you don’t need to keep paying me that stipend every month either,” he said. “I’ll be getting paid at the Circle C.”

“On an apprentice’s salary? If you think you can keep living the way you’re used to on that kind of pay, son, you’ve got a hard lesson coming your way.”

“I’ll manage,” Yuuri said, slinging the strap of his bag over his shoulder.

“Well I’m glad you’ve found something you’re so excited about, at least,” Eva said in a tone that suggested she was resigned to Yuuri having made his decision. “Don’t you think so, Hank? Maybe it’ll be good for him after all.”

“And you’re well staffed here,” Yuuri told him. “There’s also a few ranch hands like Zach and Phichit who are good with horses, and they’ll be happy to have the chance to work with them more while I’m gone. Speaking of Phichit – ”

“I know what you’re gonna say – you’ve been at me about it since the other day, and so’s your mom. It’s my Christian duty to help them, she keeps reminding me.” He gave a crooked smile, and Eva nodded and patted his shoulder. “Especially seeing as how Phichit’s gonna be off duty for a while, so to speak. I reckon we can find some kit to spare here to help ’em get back on their feet. Leave that to me.”

“Thanks, Dad. That’s good of you.” Their financial generosity was one thing Yuuri knew his parents couldn’t be faulted for, at least. He suspected it had originally come from his mother and her Quaker upbringing, and she’d managed to soften Hank up over the years. Yuuri had pleaded the case for Phichit and Chris, who had lost their horses – the charred bodies had been found by the sheriff’s men the next day – and much of their kit, which had been stored in their saddlebags and subsequently damaged or destroyed. Cowboys like them were not paid a lot of money, and losing their horses and their saddles and so many other necessities would be a devastating blow. Yuuri had already been to see Phichit at his parents’ store in town, where he was indeed marking time by doing work that did not require a great deal of movement, and reassured him that help of some kind would be forthcoming, silently adding that he would see to it if no one else did. Phichit played down the situation, as Yuuri knew he would, but he could see relief in his friend’s eyes.     

When Yuuri had finally gotten home the night after the ordeal, his mother had fussed over him like a hen, and she took some reassuring that he only had a minor burn and a cough from inhaling all the smoke, and would be fine. His father’s initial reaction had been outrage – “You could’ve been killed!” – and first thing the next morning, he’d stormed over to see the sheriff to complain about the boxes of TNT that had been left lying around in the canyon, even though Yuuri had explained that Victor had already done so. What he would really have appreciated from him was a “well done” or “you did us proud” for his actions, which felt like they’d gone some way to making amends for his behavior in the stagecoach incident, but he had learned a long time ago not to hold out any hope. And of course with all the upheaval, Yuuri hadn’t gotten the chance to tell his parents about Victor’s offer of the apprenticeship until later, which was why they were having this conversation now.

“I’ll see you, Mom,” Yuuri said, giving her a peck on the cheek. She returned a sad smile. Hank followed him as he made his way out of the house through the kitchen, grabbing his coat; Yuuri was already wearing his. He snatched a biscuit from a plate and chewed on it as he went, deciding that he would definitely miss his mother’s cooking. He knew what kind of grub chuckwagons and ranch cooks dished out.

“I still don’t understand why you wanna go live in that dump,” Hank muttered as they exited the house.

Yuuri was on his way to the stable and wondered in irritation if his father planned to follow him all the way there. He smirked inwardly at his words as well; “that dump” was a ranch of similar size and income to the Taylors’ own, and it wasn’t any more run-down or neglected than the Rafter T. Hank had tried to cultivate a rivalry with them for years, but it was mostly one-sided on his part, as the Connors were a friendly couple who happily worked with other local ranchers in the belief that there was strength in numbers when facing the myriad hardships the business and the land tended to try to throw at them.

“Stealing my son off me to work for a pittance as well.” He spat into the snow at the side of the path as they walked. “Keep that monthly stipend, you hear me? I’m not having my son living like a tramp over there.”

Yuuri halted and glared at him. “Are you going to stop being a grumpy old man for a minute? Look, go see Zach and tell him you’re promoting him. It’ll make his day.”

“He’s just over there,” Hank said, indicating the stable. “I’ll think about staffing while you’re away, but yeah, he’s a good man.”

“Well, see you, Dad,” Yuuri said, giving Hank’s arm a quick squeeze, with no desire to prolong the conversation.

“See you, son.” He turned and made his way back toward the house.

“Hi, Yuuri – you going somewhere?” Zach asked him as he approached, his bag still slung over his shoulder.

“You could say that,” Yuuri replied as he entered the stable, Zach following. “I’ve made a little arrangement to become Victor’s apprentice at the Circle C.”

“What? No way. How did that happen?”

Yuuri explained as he saddled Biscuit up and carefully packed all of his possessions, several of which he’d left here in the stable. They just fit, though they were piled up. In addition to his clothes, he was taking all of the things he normally would on a roundup or similar long journey: full saddlebags, bedroll, tent, cooking paraphernalia, emergency rations, tool kit, and so on. It probably would have been best to relieve the burden by using a packhorse as well, but he wasn’t going far, and he knew Biscuit could handle it. There was just room for him in the saddle as he jumped up.

“Can you tell the other guys where I went?” Yuuri asked Zach when he was ready to leave. “I’m not very good at goodbyes.”

“Sure. And, Yuuri…I want to thank you for what you did for Chris in the canyon the other day. Things could have turned out a lot different, and…well, I don’t wanna think about what might have happened if you hadn’t been there.”

Yuuri took in the emotion in his eyes and his sincere tone. “He’s a friend of yours?”

“Yeah. I went to visit him yesterday to make sure he was OK. Look after him over there, hey? He gets up to some dumb shit sometimes.” Zach gave a small chuckle.

“Will do.” Yuuri smiled down at him. “Well, see ya around, Zach.”

“See ya around, Yuuri.” He took off his hat and waved it as Yuuri rode out of the stable.

Yuuri took Biscuit at a walking pace and soon passed the house. He wouldn’t be seeing it again for a while. The thought made him feel unexpectedly free. As he headed down the dirt path that led to the entrance of the ranch, which was now covered in a thin, glistening patina of compacted snow after having been shovelled numerous times, he stared thoughtfully at the mountains in the distance, which reflected the golden glow of the morning sun.

It felt like he was making a brand-new start. He would be someplace new, away from the daily pressures of his parents and other obligations as the boss’s son. He would be learning exciting new things. And Victor was there waiting for him.

A bubble of unbridled joy rose up inside Yuuri. It felt like all his Christmases and birthdays had come at once. With a wild, triumphant laugh, he encouraged Biscuit into the fastest pace he deemed was safe, and they hurried down the road to the Circle C.         

***

It was not a long journey to the neighboring ranch, and Yuuri rode without pause under the Circle C sign and down the path that led to the main buildings. It was a clear but cold day, with a biting breeze that tried its best to reach under Yuuri’s coat and hat, but the worst it managed to do was brush his cheeks pink. As he rode up to the corral outside of the stable, he saw Luchik standing near the fence, though there was no sign of his owner. Yuuri drew Biscuit to a halt nearby and dismounted. “You are a beautiful creature,” he said to the white stallion, gazing in admiration. “So are you,” he added affectionately to Biscuit, stroking her neck. “There’s nothing for you to be jealous about.”

“Yuuri!” came a voice from the direction of the stable, and he turned to see Victor walking toward him with a welcoming smile, which he returned. The other man was wearing his ushanka and some kind of heavy coat underneath his customary duster, and was pulling on a pair of gloves. When he stopped near Luchik, he gave him a gentle pat on his rump. “Making friends, are you, my boy?” Then he gave Biscuit a thorough look-over. “You’d better get that horse unburdened. Come on inside.” He tilted his head toward the stable. “You can leave some of your things in here.”

Still smiling, Yuuri opened the gate and led Biscuit in. Now that he was actually here, he found himself at a loss for words. He was used to the occasional visit to this ranch, but it felt odd to think that it was now going to be his home for the foreseeable future.

“There’s a stall all set up for you over here,” Victor said, gesturing, as he led Luchik into the one next to it. “You can leave your saddlebags and anything else you’re going to use with the horses. I’ve just had Luchik out for a ride; he can stay here for now while we get you sorted out.” He paused and looked at Yuuri, who had been silently absorbing his surroundings. “I’m glad you made it here.”

“Me too,” Yuuri replied quietly, his smile still lifting the corners of his mouth. “I’m sorry, I…um, it’s just a lot to take in. But I’ve been looking forward to it.” He unbuckled his saddlebags and took out a bag with horse-grooming equipment.

Victor watched him for a moment, then said, “Abe Connor wants a word when you’re ready – he said to bring you over to the house when you got here. The good news is, he’s really pleased about the idea of you staying here with us. He’s just surprised your father allowed you to.”

Yuuri huffed. “My father couldn’t have kept me away no matter how hard he tried. Besides, he’ll get along fine without me.”

“I don’t want to think I’ve caused any animosity between the two of you,” Victor said, leaning on the wall of Luchik’s stall and folding his arms over the top, continuing to observe Yuuri as he unpacked.    

“There’s been enough of that for so long, it could hardly get much worse,” Yuuri laughed with some bitterness. “But it’s OK. I think my mother’s happy for me, and she usually talks him around. Anyway, I’m not worried about what they think.” He removed the final bags that he’d strapped to Biscuit. “There. Some of these things will need to go where I’m sleeping, but a lot of them can stay out here.”

“OK, leave it all here for now and we’ll go see Abe.” A mischievous glint lit up his eyes. “So now we’ve got this arrangement, how do we stand toward each other? Should I ask you to call me ‘Master’?”

Yuuri guffawed. “I may be your apprentice, but I’m still calling you Victor. Unless you prefer to keep this formal, and then I’ll call you Mr. Nikiforov. Or ‘sir’, if you’d rather.” The grin on his face was threatening to become a permanent fixture.

“No need for that,” Victor chuckled, leading Yuuri out of the stables. “I think just plain Victor will do very well.”

 _There’s nothing ‘plain’ about you,_ Yuuri corrected him silently as they walked toward the house.

***

Yuuri had met Abe Connor before, and the older man greeted him warmly and shook his hand. The three of them shared glasses of whiskey while a rough plan was put together for what Yuuri would be doing, leaving his stay at the Circle C open-ended. His official duties would be light for a ranch hand, so that he could spend time learning from Victor and practicing. He would also receive a small salary. It was a tacit agreement that Yuuri expected no special treatment as Hank Taylor’s son, and would receive none. It would be up to him and Victor to agree on the details of what they would be working on together. Abe told Yuuri he hoped he enjoyed his stay, and he and Victor left and headed in the direction of the bunkhouse, stopping back at the stable so Yuuri could collect what he wanted to take with him.

“Have you ever slept in a bunkhouse before?” Victor asked him as they walked.

“No, but I’ve been inside the one at the Rafter T plenty of times. And I’ve camped out with the men. I don’t think there’ll be any surprises waiting there for me…” He caught himself and shot Victor a worried look. “…will there?”

Victor smiled and shook his head. “I doubt it. Here we are.”

The Circle C bunkhouse was a long, low wooden shack-like structure with a porch that ran down the front and one side, and a few small windows. Woodsmoke curled from a small aperture in the flat roof. It was an ordinary example of its kind, Yuuri thought as he eyed the open chinks between the planks. Cool in the winter as the heat escaped through the myriad crevices, and hot in the summer as the building absorbed and held on to the warmth. He suspected that sometimes these places were deliberately designed this way so that the ranch hands would be less inclined to get lazy and hang around, at least in the opinion of the ranch bosses.

“Looks like everyone’s out working,” Victor said as they entered the empty building. It was dim inside, with a pot-bellied Franklin stove in one corner that was lit but struggling to heat the room, bunks lined up against the two long walls with various possessions scattered around and underneath, and a few chairs and wooden crates that served as tables. Unlit oil lamps with soot-blackened glass chimneys stood on some of these. Wads of newspaper had been shoved in some of the chinks in the walls in an attempt to keep the draft out. Yuuri smelled stale sweat, kerosene, cigarette smoke and pinewood.

“Your bunk’s over here,” Victor said, showing Yuuri to the area near the stove. “It’ll be a nice, warm little corner for you, I think. My bunk’s just here.” He sat down on the one next to Yuuri’s. “I guess I have a few more things than most of the other ranch hands, so I’ve got a chest here to keep some of them in.” He reached under his bunk and pulled it out, and when he opened it Yuuri smelled cedar. To his surprise, most of the contents appeared to be toiletries – shaving accoutrements, soaps, brushes and combs, and an assortment of little pots and jars. They would not be out of place in a barber’s shop, but it was unusual for a cowboy to be keeping them under his bunk.

“I found you a chest too,” Victor continued, indicating underneath Yuuri’s own bunk. “Just in case it came in handy.”

Yuuri pulled out something that looked more like what he imagined a pirate’s chest to be. It was made of dark-stained planks and had gold-colored metal fittings, including a lock in the front, but no key.

Following Yuuri’s eyes, Victor said, “If it ever did have a key, it’s gone now.” He paused, then added, “If I’m telling you things you already know at any point, just say so – but the ranch hands pride themselves on a code of honor, and they generally don’t go thieving people’s things. In fact I think they’d be insulted at the thought of it. So unless you’re carrying big stacks of money around on you and want to put them in there, you should be OK without a key. I can’t remember any of my things being stolen off me the whole time I’ve been working on ranches in this country.”

Yuuri was aware that he’d fallen silent again and was making Victor carry the conversation. What had struck him the most was Victor’s thoughtfulness in preparing for Yuuri’s stay in the short time that he’d had – adjacent stalls for their horses, bunks near the stove in the middle of winter, even the chest he’d found goodness knew where just in case Yuuri felt he needed it. He hardly merited such treatment, and felt the beginnings of a blush creeping across his cheeks. “You’ve been very kind,” he said in a small voice as he stored his remaining belongings. He decided to put his spare clothing in the chest for now. It smelled pleasantly of oak. His other belongings he left in leather bags that he tucked underneath his bunk as well, though he pulled out some blankets and spread them over the stained but well stuffed tick mattress and pillow.

Victor watched him silently, blue eyes following his movements. When Yuuri was finished, he said, “They should be serving the midday meal about now, if you’re hungry.”

“Sounds good.”

“I don’t know if you’ll be saying that once you’ve tried it, but the cook here isn’t too bad, and they give you enough to fill up on at least.”

When they got to the cook shack, Yuuri saw that there was an awning spread out behind it, with an area underneath clear of snow that contained logs, carts, and other paraphernalia on which some ranch hands were sitting and eating food out of tin bowls. They eyed Yuuri curiously as he and Victor were given their food and cups of coffee. Yuuri saw that he had some kind of soup, along with a couple of buttered sourdough biscuits. It smelled good enough, though the greasy grey lumps floating in the liquid did not look particularly appetizing.

“This is one of the cook’s regular staples,” Victor explained as they sat down on a log. Chuckling, he added, “He calls it sonofabitch stew.” Yuuri laughed. “I _think_ it’s got beef, heart, liver, sweetbreads, hot sauce and chunks of marrow in it – but don’t hold me to that.”

It suddenly felt like a brave thing to Yuuri to have a taste, but Victor was eating it, so he figured it must be OK. He dipped his spoon in, took a sip, and decided that was about right. Victor told him more about ranch routines as they ate, and pointed out some of the men, putting names to them that Yuuri was sure he wouldn’t remember, though he already knew a few of the hands in passing. Victor told him that they would probably want to satisfy their curiosity about him in the bunkhouse later that night when the day’s work was done. Yuuri wasn’t looking forward to being the center of attention, but hadn’t expected anything less – people were always curious about new workers on a ranch, and he supposed they would find it odd on top of it that he was the son of the boss of the neighboring ranch, as well as Victor’s apprentice.

 He put his empty tin bowl and spoon on the ground and picked up his coffee – and promptly gagged as his first swallow oozed its way down his throat. “Wow, that’s got a kick,” he gasped, laughing, and Victor joined in.

“I should’ve thought to warn you. It’s about as thick and strong as tar.”

“Nothing wrong with that. I’ll just take it a bit slower.” When he finished drinking, he saw a little pile of coffee grounds stuck to the bottom of the mug, and tipped them over the dirt. “Sheesh,” he said with a smile. “That stuff could kill a buffalo at fifty yards.”

They handed their tins back at the cook shack, and Victor suggested they return to the stable and talk more about what they could do with the horses. Yuuri felt a sudden shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. This was it – his moment to show Victor what he’d been learning, and ask to be taught more of the same. Here, on this freeze-your-ass-off Wyoming January day. He hadn’t had the chance to practice since before the incident in the canyon. And if he kept his coat and gloves on, he’d be restricted in what he could do. Maybe if he went without, he’d be able to get away without frostbite if not avoid a bout of shivering. It was less than ideal, but it wasn’t likely to warm up outside anytime soon, and he couldn’t put this off.

What would Victor think? he wondered. Two conflicting notions were fighting inside him: one that was afraid he’d mess this up and embarrass himself, or that Victor wouldn’t be impressed even with his best efforts; and one that wanted to show off his pride in being able to reproduce a small part of the repertoire that the master himself possessed. He knew he couldn’t back down from this now, though; and he didn’t want to, even though his nerves were threatening to reach up into his throat and strangle him. He rolled a quirly as they walked and sucked on it as if the smoke could magically soak all of his anxiety into itself and dissipate it into the air as he blew it out.

“Yuuri, are you OK?” Victor asked as they arrived at the corral and he opened the gate.

“Um, fine,” Yuuri said, crushing the cigarette butt into the snowy ground.

Victor looked at him dubiously as they approached their horses’ stalls, and then he stopped and leaned back against the door to Luchik’s. “So,” he began, continuing to eye Yuuri intently, “tell me, what is it you want to learn?”

Yuuri took a deep breath. “You remember the day last fall when I came here and watched you do the trick riding…” Victor lifted his eyebrows and tilted his head in encouragement; he looked like he’d expected Yuuri to talk about this. “Well, I’d love to learn how to do some of that myself. I mean, there’s other things too – maybe you could show me how you tame mustangs, the signals you give to Luchik, and so on. But…the trick riding is what really caught my interest.” He felt the familiar enthusiasm springing up inside of him as he thought about it.

“Well that’s plenty for us to be getting on with,” Victor said with a smile.

“In fact,” Yuuri added quickly before he lost his nerve, “I was wondering if I could show you some of what I can already do. You know, as a starting point.”

Victor looked pleasantly surprised. “Please,” he said, gesturing to Biscuit in her stall. “This sounds like a treat. I wasn’t expecting a show today.”

“Well I’m not sure how much of a show it’ll be.” Yuuri began saddling Biscuit up, and grabbed his lasso. “But I’ll do my best.”

They moved out into the corral, and before Yuuri mounted Biscuit he hooked the rope onto the saddle, then removed his sheepskin hat, coat and gloves, draping them over the fence. He was wearing his red knitted long johns under a blue checked flannel shirt, but even together they barely formed any kind of barrier against the cold, especially when the breeze blew.

“Yuuri, what are you doing?” Victor asked, his brow clouded. “It’s cold – ”

“I know, but I won’t be doing this for long.” He flashed what he hoped looked like a confident smile, because he wasn’t feeling it inside. “Just wait and see. C’mon, girl,” he said to Biscuit.

Victor stepped back until he was standing slightly inside the stable, just out of the corral. There was an intrigued look of concentration on his face, his arms folded across his chest, as he watched Yuuri take his horse at a quickening gait in wide circles.

Yuuri hadn’t dared try any of these new tricks yet at a full gallop, but he took Biscuit to a canter. He let her do a few circuits of the corral while he attempted to relax mentally and focus on the feelings he wanted to channel into his performance. This wasn’t meant to be a display of physical skill alone, but something beautiful and enticing to watch as well – if it worked the way he hoped it would. He’d never performed it in front of an audience, and wasn’t sure how it would look to someone else or what they were likely to think of it. But all he could do was try, and keep his fingers crossed.

While Biscuit continued to canter, he leaned slowly back in the saddle until he was as horizontal as he could be. At the same time, he lifted his legs so that his left was just hovering over Biscuit’s neck, and at a similar angle, while he bent his right knee and brought his foot up next to his left knee, forming a triangle shape with both legs. He simultaneously moved his hands palm down against his sides, from his hips to his ribcage, and then gradually outward until his arms were not quite perpendicular to his body. He used the allongé position for his hands that Clarissa had taught him, palms down, the hand tilted at about forty-five degrees to the wrist, forefinger and thumb slightly extended. He doubted many cowboys had done such things in their rodeo riding, but he liked to imagine what he was doing as more of a dance on horseback. It felt graceful, and he hoped that was how it looked as well. He tilted his head back slightly and lowered his eyelids as far as he could while still being able to see, wanting to copy the serene look he’d seen on Victor’s face the day he’d performed here.

 _Well I haven’t fallen off yet, so that’s something,_ he thought to himself as he moved smoothly back to a normal sitting position in the saddle. He did not pause, but lifted his left leg so that it was hanging down on the opposite side of Biscuit’s neck, while shifting his right so that it also swung around, at the same time gripping the saddle horn tightly with one hand and bracing himself against his horse’s neck with the other. The result was that he was now facing backward in the saddle. It had taken days and weeks of practice and many hard falls to get to the point where he could do this with a reasonable percentage of success, beginning on Biscuit when she wasn’t moving at all, and transitioning through faster gaits – and he still found it difficult, but luck seemed to be on his side today.

He did not pause here either, but slid forward so that the back of his head was leaning against the middle of Biscuit’s neck, then angled himself so that his body was hanging mostly to the side of the horse that was facing the corral fence, his right leg hooked around the back curve of the saddle to hold him in place, his right hand gripping the saddle horn. He lowered his body downward as far as he could, sweeping his free leg out and arcing his free arm, again with an allongé, pretending he was skimming the waters of a lake as he sped across it. And again the serene look, as well as he could pull it off. He wished he could see how Victor was reacting, but it was impossible given what he was doing and the speed at which Biscuit was moving. He’d fallen plenty of times trying to do this as well, but was feeling a building sense of elation that it all seemed to be coming together now.

For the finale, he’d decided to add a touch of his own by pushing himself to try some more sophisticated lasso work. He pulled himself back onto the saddle, then briefly stood in the stirrups and carefully climbed up, grabbing his rope in the process, so that he was standing _on_ the saddle, slipping the toes of his boots into the leather straps he’d had the town saddle-maker fit there. He kept his knees slightly flexed, making shifts of rhythm and weight to balance and move along with Biscuit. This was at least something he was more confident and familiar with, even if he’d never taken the standing part past the stirrups until a few months ago.

Before he started swinging the lasso, he risked a glance over at Victor – and nearly fell off his horse. The other man was standing stock still, one arm wrapped around his chest and the other propping a gloved hand up that was clapped over his mouth. His eyes were wide and sparkling with surprise, and it looked like he was hiding a smile. Yuuri felt drunk. He felt like he could drift straight off his horse and up into the sky if he wanted. His chest ached with some emotion he had no name for. And he was _standing on top of the saddle of a cantering horse, goddamn it, so use your brain or you’re going to be eating dirt in a second._

Yuuri’s attention shot back to what he was doing as he momentarily swayed and lost his balance. Soon settling himself again, he imagined he was standing in front of Clarissa’s mirror, wearing the white robe. He lifted his lasso and swung it in circles above his head as Biscuit continued to canter around the corral, then brought the loop down so that he was rhythmically swinging it around himself. Within the confines of the circle, he moved into different poses as if performing a slow dance. He anchored the spare coil of rope to the saddle and stretched a leg out, his foot pointed as well as it could be with a cowboy boot over it, while lifting his free arm into fifth position, rounded with his elbow slightly bent, palm facing downward, fingers together with the thumb apart. He was still amazed at how much easier it was to balance while doing things like this since he’d started his ballet lessons.  

The next move he’d practiced was a difficult one, because it required pulling his boot out of the strap and standing on the saddle with no safeguards. This he carefully did, and then jumped so that he was facing backward, never ceasing the movement of the lasso. He landed well this time, which was a pleasant surprise, and did a little twirl, reaching his free arm up into the air as he did so. To finish, he slipped the toes of his boots back under the straps and, levering himself against them, gradually arched himself backward, his hand still moving the lasso, while his other reached back until his palm rested against Biscuit’s rump. He held himself in the inverted ‘u’ shape while he moved the circling lasso from himself down around to Biscuit’s moving body, keeping his eyes hooded and his expression calm – playful, even. Then at the sound of his voice, Biscuit gradually slowed to a halt, the lasso dropped to the ground, and Yuuri sat back down on the saddle, pulling his boots out of the straps, then dismounting and tidying the rope back into a neat coil which he replaced on the saddle. It was only now that he noticed the cold eating into his body, and that his hands – particularly the one that had been wielding the lasso – were going numb. He held them up to his mouth and blew on them as he walked over to Victor, who looked the same as he did when he had glanced at him before. Yuuri’s heart was in his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As food is a continuing feature here, please feel free to try any of the recipes I’ve added in the notes. Though if you have access to the ingredients for this one and are brave enough to make it, I take my Stetson off to you!
> 
> Sonofabitch stew  
>  _Ingredients:_  
>  2 lbs lean beef  
> 1 set brains  
> half a calf heart  
> 1 set marrow gut  
> 1 ½ lbs calf’s liver  
> 1 set sweetbreads (organ meat)  
> salt  
> pepper  
> hot sauce
> 
>  _Instructions:_  
>  Kill off a young steer. Cut up beef, liver and heart into 1-inch cubes; slice the marrow gut into small rings. Place in a dutch oven or deep casserole. Cover meat with water and simmer for 2 to 3 hours. Add salt, pepper and hot sauce to taste. Take sweetbreads and brains and cut in small pieces. Add to stew. Simmer another hour, never boiling.
> 
> Recipe From: _Historic Dress of the Old West_


	9. Chapter 9

With a growing sense of trepidation, Yuuri stopped in front of him and stared. “Well?” he said with the ghost of a smile. “Will it do for a start?”

The next second was a blur as Victor flung out his arms and wrapped them around him in a firm hug. “Yuuri, that was amazing!” he exclaimed in the same joyful voice Yuuri remembered hearing when he had emerged from the canyon with Phichit. Momentarily stunned, Yuuri processed this and then returned the hug, laughing. The cold was quickly banished. It seemed that Victor used some kind of rose-scented soap. The smell lingered on the collar of his duster coat.

“Here,” Victor said, reaching for Yuuri’s own coat and draping it around his shoulders. “Let’s get you warmed up.” He laughed in delight. “I can’t believe you did that! Where did you learn?”

Yuuri felt the familiar blush spread across his face, but he ignored it and shoved his arms into his coat, buttoning it up and then putting his hat and gloves back on. As he did this, he explained, “To be honest with you, I was going through a difficult time these past several months. But I was also thinking about the trick riding you showed me. I guess you could say I used that as an inspiration to try some of it myself, if I could work out how it was done. So I’ve spent a lot of time doing that, and exercising, and practicing.” He shrugged. “It was fun. And it felt really worthwhile. But I don’t have the training or experience that you do. And I know I’ll never be as good at it as you. If you could teach me just a little of what you know, though – ”

“I’d love nothing more,” Victor said with a smile. “Your performance was so beautiful that it deserved to be set to music. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

As the words hung in the air, Yuuri felt his face turn from pink to scarlet. Victor Nikiforov had never seen anything like it? Before he could think of how to respond, however, Victor walked over to where Biscuit was standing and inspected the leather straps Yuuri had added to the saddle. “Hmm. These obviously do the job. But if you want to do trick riding safely, you need a proper Cossack saddle. I guess you know Fred Mueller, the saddle-maker in town who kits out the local spreads?” Yuuri nodded. “He could make one for you according to my instructions. We should go see him soon. But for now…” He gave Yuuri a questioning look. “…how do you feel about me showing you how to change a couple of things you did so that there’s less chance of you getting hurt next time you do them?”

Yuuri gave him an embarrassed grin. “I think I’d be stupid to say no.”  

***

They worked on this for a while, with Yuuri experiencing several “ah-ha, so that’s how you do it” moments where he discovered that he’d either misremembered what he’d seen Victor performing, or he’d made the move more complicated than it actually needed to be. Overall, though, he was pleased at what he’d correctly been able to puzzle out – and surprised to find out that Victor had done little in the way of trick lasso work himself, and had been so impressed with what Yuuri had shown him that he hoped he would teach him some tricks in return. Yuuri hadn’t expected this, and was looking forward to being able to teach his own instructor something new. This was an afternoon of deciding what Yuuri would focus on during his apprenticeship, however, and Victor told him that he thought he would benefit most from gymnastics exercises, as they would greatly facilitate what he could do on his horse.

“What are those?” Yuuri asked as they stabled their horses. “I’ve never heard of them.”

Victor laughed and shook his head. “For such a wealthy and powerful country, this place often seems to be the last one to hear about things that have gone on in Europe for decades or even centuries,” he said with a touch of derision that reminded Yuuri oddly of Clarissa when she was decrying how ballet was either completely unknown here, or relegated to a curiosity in theaters between comedy acts and magic tricks. “They’re exercises that develop your agility and coordination.”

“Sounds perfect,” Yuuri said as he followed Victor, intrigued, to a darker corner of the stable where there were no horse stalls, but some curious pieces of wooden and leather apparatus. Yuuri had glanced at it before but not given it much thought, assuming it had some unknown but important purpose for someone on the ranch.

“Well, the Cossacks did their trick riding for centuries before gymnastics were officially invented, so they’re not technically necessary – as you proved just now, in fact. These particular exercises spread across Europe from Germany, and we only did them for a few years in Russia before I came here. But I’ve always found them very useful. And I think that if you tried them, you might feel the same.”

Yuuri made a mental note to ask him sometime about his life in Russia, and why he’d come to the United States, though he didn’t want to pry when they’d only started working together. “So you come out here and do exercises on this equipment?” he asked, taking a closer look. There was something like a crude model horse that a child might use, sans neck and head; it was a leather-covered beam with four wooden legs protruding from underneath. Nearby was a long wooden beam that stood a few feet off the floor; and when he looked up he saw two ropes suspended from a rafter, each with a leather-covered ring attached to the bottom. In the corner was a pile of well-padded tick mattresses.

“Yakov would laugh at how primitive my setup is,” Victor said, “but this is more of a hobby here for me, and I don’t have the time or any good reason to work on it for more than an hour or two every day. I do the exercises that seem to work best for the tricks I perform with Luchik. I don’t do the same things every day, either, because again there’s no time for that, but also because you build your muscles by resting them occasionally. Some days I practice on Luchik; others I come out here; sometimes I might just work on stretching and balancing.”

Yuuri drank in every word, feeling like an eager young boy who’d been introduced to wonders he’d never known existed. Everything was suddenly new and amazing. He took his gloves off and ran a finger along the leather horse.

“That’s a vaulting horse,” Victor explained. “There’s a balance beam over there. And those rings are great for building upper body strength.”

Yuuri looked at Victor for a moment and then quickly looked away. That would explain why he was so muscular in that area when cowboys didn’t tend to do much that required it; it was the thighs and back that would grow strong from hours of riding horses, unless a lot of building, repairing, and chopping firewood featured into daily life as well. He tried to imagine what kinds of exercises a person would perform on each piece of apparatus.

As if reading his thoughts, Victor said with a smile, “Would you like a demonstration?”

Yuuri’s heart did an excited little leap. “Sure.”

“Just remember that I’ve been doing these exercises for years,” Victor continued as he removed his outerwear and gloves, then sat down on a bench to change out of his boots and into a pair of black flat-soled shoes. He was wearing his customary tan-colored pants and a white shirt, whose sleeves he rolled up, with a white cotton undershirt showing where the top buttons were undone. “You won’t be trying these things right away. We’ll start with what you can manage and work from there.”

“OK,” Yuuri said, watching him. “But won’t you be cold? You said when I was in the corral – ”

“Well, you see, that’s different.” Victor walked over to the balance beam and leaped up. “I’m Russian.”

“Ah.” Yuuri thought he detected a slight hint of smugness in Victor’s tone that had never been there before, but he just smiled to himself.

“If I don’t do much stretching at first, I’ll start with this, because it does a good job of it for me,” Victor said – and proceeded to move from one end of the beam to the other, walking with his toes pointed forward at first, then doing a jump in which his legs were suspended in a front split in the air, one pointed perfectly forward and one backward. Yuuri recognized it from his ballet lessons. It was simple but beautiful. The moves after that, however, sent his jaw to the floor – he was in the habit of doing that now where Victor was concerned, he realized. Victor flexed his knees slightly, bent forward and waved his arms backward as if he were going to dive off the end of the beam and into some hypothetical lake; but then his arms shot in the other direction and he arched his back, springing into the air and pinwheeling his legs as he grabbed the beam behind him. He did not pause once he was upright, but leaped high into the air, arching his back again with his arms bent at his sides, then landed on one foot with the other pointing straight up in the air, and kept moving until he was upright on both feet again. This was only the start, however, as Victor executed more jumps and flips interspersed with poses and walks that looked a lot like the way a ballet dancer moved. It was obviously different from the trick riding, but appeared no less skilled, and Yuuri found that he could only stare.

Apparently Victor had finished, and jumped off the beam to stand next to Yuuri. “Something like that,” he said. “What next – maybe the rings?”

Yuuri nodded silently, and watched Victor move a stool under them, climb up, grab the rings, and kick the stool away. His face was full of concentration as he held himself in different stationary positions, looping his body around between them, his arm muscles corded and bulging. It was clearly a test of sheer strength. Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat.

Victor let go of the rings and landed on the floor, panting. “That’s always a good workout.” He took in Yuuri’s bemused expression and smiled. “I suppose I could show you one or two vaults, though they take a little setting up.”

“Um…” Yuuri found his voice, but it didn’t seem to want to form words. “Yeah, OK.”

“I don’t do anything fancy with this,” Victor said as he picked up the vaulting horse and carried it into the corral. “It’s not really necessary for what I do with Luchik, though the skills you develop with basic vaulting are useful. Grab one of those mattresses in the corner, will you?”

Yuuri did so and joined Victor in the corral, then watched as Victor positioned the mattress a distance away from the horse. He then returned to the stable and came back with a small wooden ramp, which he placed on the opposite side of the horse from the mattress.

“The mattresses aren’t necessary either, but they make things a lot easier on your feet when you land. I think that should be in about the right place. The ramp’s called a springboard – it gives you some height, though it’s also good to practice without it, because you don’t use it when you’re doing tricks on your horse.” He walked around to stand several dozen feet away from the springboard and gave a smile and a nod at his one-man audience, which Yuuri returned.

Yuuri watched, fascinated, as Victor ran forward, jumped against the springboard with both feet, flew into the air, came down on his palms against the vaulting horse with his legs straight up, and carried on until he landed on his feet on the mattress. “That’s a basic front handspring,” he said, moving off the mattress. “Harder to do without the springboard, but it’s a good one to start with.” He proceeded to do a few more vaults, this time with some added flips and twists. The last one didn’t quite seem to go as planned, however, and he landed a little awkwardly a few inches away from the mattress, waving one arm to keep his balance. “Hmm, I think I’d better practice that one,” he said with a low chuckle.

“Victor, I…I don’t know what to say,” Yuuri said softly as they carried the equipment back into the stable. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“Well we’re even then, since that’s what I said about your own performance.” He placed the horse and the springboard back in the corner of the stable, and Yuuri stored the mattress on top of the others. Victor unhurriedly put his winter layers back on – Yuuri was surprised to see that the cold really didn’t appear to be bothering him much. Then the thought struck him that he’d be expected to train on this apparatus, and maybe copy some of the feats he’d just seen Victor do.

“But…I can’t do all that,” he protested.

“Oh?” Victor raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you said when you saw me on Luchik that day? If I’m not mistaken, you went back to the Rafter T and worked very hard to imitate some of what you’d seen me do – and then some. So how is this different?”

Yuuri crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked down. “I suppose I don’t have a lot of confidence,” he confessed.

Victor gave him a small smile. “So my job is to help you find your confidence. That’s good to know. We’ll work on the gymnastics, and we’ll practice the trick riding. And, Yuuri…” he added, lowering his voice, “…if you ever want to show me any more moves like the ones you did for me today, I’d be a willing audience. I like what they brought out in you.”

Yuuri’s breath hitched in his throat again, and he felt another blush steal up his neck and across his cheeks, then wanted to kick himself for the number of times this seemed to happen to him. It was embarrassing. He swallowed and gave Victor a nod.

Victor continued to hold his gaze for a moment, then said breezily, “What would you like to start with, then? We’ve got time to do a bit of practice before dinner.”

“Uh…” Yuuri’s eyes opened wide. “Now?”

“Why not? Then you’ll see there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Well…” He looked around at the apparatus. “I guess I could try the rings. I’ve been working on my upper body strength, so...”

“The rings it is, then. Come on over here.” Once they were standing underneath them, instead of grabbing the stool, Victor gave Yuuri a boost up. Yuuri hung there, feeling like a piece of meat curing over a fire.

“See if you can raise yourself up until your arms are straight down at your sides, and keep your legs together. If that’s not working for you, we can – ” He cut himself off as he watched Yuuri follow his instructions with little difficulty.

“Next?” Yuuri asked, a frisson of pride darting down his spine as Victor looked up at him approvingly.  

They proceeded in this way for half an hour or so, Victor instructing Yuuri in how to hold his arms and hands, the best positions in which to hold the rings, and some basic exercises. Yuuri took occasional rests by hanging loosely back down, but he did not let go of the rings until they were done. His hands and fingers ached, and the muscles across his back burned, but he felt like he’d achieved something. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

***

As they made their way to the cook shack for dinner, Yuuri confessed that he didn’t think his own clothing would stand up to the kinds of rigors he’d seen Victor put his through, and he had visions of himself mending splits in the seams of his pants as he sat in the bunkhouse every night. Victor laughed and said that his pants were made of a soft, flexible material that didn’t cause him any problems, and when they went into town to order Yuuri’s new saddle they could also see about some new items of clothing, which should include a pair of soft flat-soled shoes. Yuuri had money for the clothing, though the saddle would be a costly piece of gear, especially if he had to ask for special fittings on it. Still, once he had it, it should last him many years to come.

Dinner was about the same standard as lunch – this time pot roast, beans, and baked potatoes with butter. Yuuri liked it better than the soup, though he was beginning to wonder if drinking from the water pump would be preferable to having the coffee. After several sips, he noticed small pieces of some kind of crunchy substance sticking in his mouth, and pulled one out to discover a piece of eggshell. He held it up and stared at it.

“They’re supposed to filter those out before they serve the coffee up, but they don’t always,” Victor said, sipping at his own. “It’s best to suck it through your teeth. The eggshell’s supposed to make it less bitter, but I’m not sure how well that works.” He chuckled. “Sometimes I just give up and get my camping kit out and go brew my own when I’ve got time.”

Yuuri poured the contents of his tin mug onto the earth – coffee, grounds, eggshell and all – with a smirk. “I think I’ll try the water.” He got up and poured himself a couple of cupfuls, which he guzzled down.

The sun was sinking behind the mountains as they walked back to the bunkhouse. “As much as I made of doing gymnastics in the cold,” Victor said, “I’ll be glad of a warm stove when we get in. Sometimes I exercise in the bunkhouse for that reason, and the other men are usually OK about it, but they get tired of it after a while. I tried some jumps in there once when it was too crowded, and…well, let’s just say I wasn’t the most popular person that day.”

Yuuri laughed. “I can imagine. I don’t think I’ll want to do that stuff in front of an audience just yet – but if I do, I’ll make sure I don’t get their backs up.”

There were ten men or so inside the bunkhouse when they stepped through the door, the rest having gone out to the saloon for their Saturday-night blowout, as Sunday was usually a day of rest on the ranches. Some were circled around a wooden crate with a lit oil lamp, playing cards, while others were lying on their bunks or busying themselves silently with mending kit or clothes, reading, smoking, or anything else that would pass the time. They all looked up when Victor appeared with Yuuri, which was what Yuuri had been expecting with trepidation; but Victor put a reassuring hand on his arm and announced in a confident voice that carried well across the room: “This here’s Yuuri Taylor from the Rafter T. Some of you’ve heard that he was coming here for a spell. He’ll mainly be working with me, but he’s employed here as a general stable hand too, and he knows his way around a lasso and a cow.” He smiled at Yuuri and continued, “So make him feel at home, OK?”

Yuuri smiled politely, waved, and said hello to the men as they greeted him while he and Victor made their way across the room to their bunks. “Thanks,” he said to Victor as he sat down, removed his outer garments, and began to go through his quirly-rolling ritual.

“Sure.” He watched Yuuri for a moment. “Glasses, hm?”

“Oh – yeah, I’m farsighted. They’re a pain, mostly. Cowboy jobs and delicate things made out of wire and glass don’t go together so well.” He grinned and Victor laughed. “They’re getting kind of beat up these days, but the nearest optician’s not so near, so I make do.” He put his paraphernalia away, struck a match and lit up, observing Victor’s expression as he had done on similar occasions. “Cigarette smoke bother you?”

Victor “hmph”ed and removed his own outdoor clothing, folding it neatly and placing it under his bunk. “I’m used to it. I’m not sure breathing in smoke is the healthiest thing, but plenty of people do it, so…” His voice trailed off and he shrugged.

“Well goddamn, if it ain’t Yuuri Taylor come to join our happy home,” Walt said effusively as he strode over, pulling up a chair. And that was how it started – the informal introductions to the bunkhouse, as one cowboy and then a few more took turns coming over to visit Yuuri, examining the new curiosity and trying to extract any interesting information he’d give, especially since they were aware he would have news from the neighboring ranch. Yuuri obliged, feeling soon that he was rivalling Phichit in dishing out the gossip to keep the men happy, and explaining several times over that he was Victor’s apprentice and how that was going to work. He felt exhausted inside as well as out, though he was pleased to find that the men were good-natured and friendly for the most part; an exception being Ebenezer, who seemed to prefer to skulk in the far corner of the room but didn’t attempt to cause Yuuri any trouble. Victor had listened politely to the conversation, joining in when appropriate, but mostly sitting back and allowing Yuuri to guide things as he saw fit. He felt a flutter of amusement at one point when he noticed that Victor was filing his nails.     

“What?” Victor said in mock-defensiveness when he noticed Yuuri looking at him. “Nothing wrong with a horseman having clean, even nails.” Yuuri just smiled.

“Howdy there,” came a familiar deep voice from next to him, and Yuuri turned to see that Chris had come over to visit. “Y’know, I don’t think we were rightly introduced last time we met, seein’ as how you an’ Victor had just pulled me an’ your friend outta that death-trap of a canyon.” He held out a large, powerful-looking hand. “Chris Giacometti at your service – rancher, roper, son of Texas, and all-around hellraiser.”

Victor snorted as Yuuri shook Chris’s hand. “Not that much of a hellraiser,” he corrected him. “You’re a kitten underneath, and you know it. But you sure talk a lot of bluster.”

“Ain’t no bluster to tell this here feller that I’m grateful to him for savin’ my life.” He fixed Yuuri with a sincere gaze. “I gotta say it humbled me, how people from both ranches pitched in to help me an’ your friend kit back out after we lost our horses and saddles and bags and whatnot. Let no one ever say Wyomin’ people ain’t friendly or don’t look after their own. Look, my friend – if I can ever return the favor, all ya hafta do is ask. I mean it. I owe ya one.”

Yuuri gripped his hand firmly and then let go. “Sure. So…how does someone like you end up here in Wyoming?”

“Ain’t it me who’s supposed to be pesterin’ y’all with questions?” Chris laughed. “Well, that’s an easy one to answer. I came up here on a cattle drive, and I just sorta never left.”

“He speaks very good Spanish,” Victor piped up. “It’s handy with the vaqueros. And he’s a fine horseman too.”

“Now, Victor, yer flatterin’ me.”

It was clear that Victor and Chris knew each other well and were good friends. Yuuri was a little nonplussed by the Texan’s direct manner, but he obviously meant well, and the three of them carried on a pleasant conversation for a while. Chris had told Yuuri that he’d have to visit Rosarita’s in town with him sometime – “her home cookin’s the best, an’ hot enough to blow yer boots off” – when Walt and a red-haired ranch hand named Mike rejoined them. Yuuri groaned inwardly, feeling like he’d accomplished a week’s worth of socializing in the space of a few hours, but did his best to maintain his polite smile, wanting to make a good impression on these men who were going to be his roommates.

“I was forgettin’ my manners when I saw you earlier,” Walt said, holding up a bottle about two-thirds full of an amber liquid. “Best Tennessee bourbon, this is.”

Mike immediately guffawed. “Best prune juice and sulfuric acid, more like. That shit won’t just put hairs on your chest, it’ll burn ’em off too.” After a pause, he added, “But ya only live once. Give it here.” Walt passed him the bottle, and he took a swig and coughed. “Go on an’ try some, Yuuri. I know it ain’t much, but it’s about all we got to welcome ya to the bunkhouse with.”

Yuuri obliged, and the liquid burned a trail of fire down his throat. He spluttered amid a chorus of laughs. “If that’s the best Tennessee bourbon,” he choked out, “I’d hate to see the worst. But thanks.”

The three of them continued to talk and pass the bottle around, while Chris and Victor fell into a separate quiet conversation of their own. As the night lengthened, Yuuri decided he didn’t feel so exhausted anymore, and words came more easily to him as he declared that the men of the Circle C were the best all-fired saddle stiffs east of the Rockies, and he was glad to be there with them. Walt’s story about the naked man who’d fled from Betty Sue’s cathouse with three semi-dressed women in pursuit, one of them shooting a gun over his head and another demanding that he take her underwear off and give it back, was somehow the most hilarious thing that Yuuri had ever heard. Then Mike took a harmonica out of a vest pocket and began to mouth a well-known folk tune on it, while Walt stood up, a little unsteadily, and started to clap and dance.

“C’mon, Yuuri,” he said, holding out his hand. “Let your hair down.”

“I dunno…” he said hesitantly, thinking through the haze that had settled over his brain that maybe it was time to call it a good night and get some shuteye.

“Word has it you’re a real good dancer,” Walt carried on, “but I don’t believe it. I bet you got two left feet.”

That did it. “Yeah?” He kicked off his boots and socks, then stood up and tossed his vest and shirt in a heap on his bunk. He was still wearing his blue woollen pants, with the top of his red long johns covering his chest and arms. Rolling up the sleeves and ignoring the bandage on his burned arm that was now on display, he took Walt’s hand, and they started dancing to Mike’s tune while some of the other men in the room whistled and clapped.

“He’s a fit enough guy,” Chris mused as he watched Yuuri. Noticing Victor’s scowl, he said, “Well he won’t hafta do too much gettin’ into shape before he kin do all them horse tricks he wants ya to teach him, will he?”

Victor looked on silently as Yuuri did a graceful turn as lead partner, considering what he’d had to drink. He pirouetted and slid his feet along the floor and swayed his hips and brushed his hands over his thighs and sides. Walt giggled delightedly, grabbing onto Yuuri’s arm a couple of times to stop himself from falling over.

Chris leaned in and said in an amused but confidential tone to Victor, “I wonder if this is gonna end up bein’ a repeat of that hoedown last fall.”

At these words, Victor rose and walked over to Yuuri, gently separating him from Walt, who fell more than sat down on a chair, still smiling. “Dang, I ain’t laughed so hard since that day Bert mistook that bottle of castor oil for whiskey,” he said, his voice slightly slurred. Mike continued to play his harmonica, a melancholy tune this time. Simultaneously, an argument broke out among the card-playing trio in the middle of the room. Victor ignored them all as he guided Yuuri over to his bunk.

“Why’d you stop me?” Yuuri asked him.

“If you drink any more, you won’t feel up to riding any horses or doing any gymnastics tomorrow,” Victor replied quietly, picking up Yuuri’s shirt, folding it, and placing it carefully alongside his vest under his bunk.

“Victor…” Yuuri elongated the name as he said it. “Do you want to dance with me?”

“To harmonica tunes? I think I’ll pass tonight.” He collected Yuuri’s boots, stuffed his socks inside, and placed them as a pair near his clothes.

Yuuri was still standing, looking at him and swaying slightly. “Please?” he asked sweetly, lifting a hand and running the backs of his fingers down Victor’s cheekbone. Chris let out a chuckle from where he was sitting.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Victor replied, gently taking Yuuri’s wrist and lowering his hand, then guiding him to his bunk. This time there was no resistance as Yuuri crawled under his blankets, hummed, and closed his eyes.

“What are you grinning at?” Victor said to Chris a little sharply as he removed his shirt and boots and climbed into his own bunk.

The Texan just shook his head as he stood up. “Night, Victor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Gymnastics_ was developed in Germany at the end of the eighteenth century, and flourished in the form of clubs throughout Europe in the 1800s. Men’s gymnastics first featured in the Olympics in 1896. The sport was introduced to the United States about the time of the Civil War, as it was felt that it would contribute to the fitness of the troops. Most of the growth of gymnastics in the country centered on the activities of European immigrants, who introduced it in their new cities in the 1880s. Like ballet and other ‘imports’ from the Old World, it was therefore only starting to take root in the U.S. at this time, and many people in the west would never have heard of it, or thought it newfangled and peculiar!


	10. Chapter 10

_Cold_ and _snow_ were two things that Yuuri was continually reminded of that winter in the Circle C bunkhouse. While the chinks in the walls were small enough to keep out the latter, they allowed the former to always creep in, despite the best efforts of the aging stove near Yuuri’s and Victor’s bunks. Yuuri felt bad for the men who had to sleep on the other side of the room, who were lacking even that.

He had soon settled into the rhythm of life on the ranch, which wasn’t very different from that at the Rafter T. Thankfully he was a solid sleeper, though there were many kinds of noises that could wake anyone in the early hours: Men coming and going through the door and tramping in their boots across the wooden floor; night owls playing cards or carrying on conversations with no heed to anyone trying to sleep nearby until someone got irritated enough to shout threats; and by far the worst – snoring. At least three men – Yuuri had counted one night, separating out the individual noises of each one – sawed wood very loudly on a regular basis. Fortunately they didn’t sleep immediately near Yuuri, but sometimes it was still bad enough to wake him. Occasionally he would be made aware that Victor heard them too when a quiet remark would drift from his bunk: “They’re a real chorus tonight, aren’t they?” or something similar. But after a while, Yuuri got used to it. He tried to pretend they were trains passing in the night.

The ranch hands had also made him feel very welcome, ever since his first day, and for that he was thankful. He remembered talking to many of them in the bunkhouse that night, but after Walt and Mike had started passing around a bottle containing some kind of toxic concoction, Yuuri’s memory got hazy. He had the vague idea that he’d danced, and then been pulled away and somehow put in his bed; and the next morning he’d awoken with the outer layers of clothing that had been removed from him tucked neatly away under his bunk, and a head that felt like someone was trying to chop it up for kindling. His immediate reaction was to feel embarrassed that he’d done this to himself without even having been at the ranch a full day, but no one seemed to be concerned, and Victor had tactfully avoided saying a word about it. He’d shown Yuuri all the morning routines, made sure he drank plenty of water to help with his hangover, and accompanied him to a bacon-and-eggs breakfast outside the cook shack. Yuuri was so glad of the coffee this time that he ignored the grounds and eggshells and drank up.

Most mornings, however, at the risk of missing breakfast, or at least the best food at breakfast, he preferred to get up a little later than the other men so that he would be able to snatch a few minutes of privacy inside the bunkhouse to wash and dress, and not have to stand in line outside for the outhouse and water pump. Sometimes he met Victor at the cook shack, though more often Yuuri wouldn’t see him until he went out to the stable.

He’d also quickly discovered that one of Victor’s frequent habits was bathing in a wooden trough outside at the back of the bunkhouse in the morning. There was a water pump nearby, though the temperature of the water was only the same as that of the ground. Added to the cold winter air, Yuuri couldn’t believe anyone could or would do such a thing. The first time he’d seen Victor soaking in the trough, he’d asked him if something was wrong.

“No, no, I’m fine,” Victor replied lazily, running a bar of soap over his arms.

“But it’s January – there’s snow everywhere out here – and you’re soaking in cold water!” Yuuri protested. “That cannot be good for you.”

“On the contrary, it’s envigorating. Certainly wakes you up in the morning. You should try it sometime.”

“I’ll pass. And don’t tell me – you can handle it because you’re Russian.”

“Exactly! You’ve got it.”

Yuuri shook his head. “It must send your balls all the way up into your throat to try to stay warm.”

Victor laughed heartily. “It’s not such an unusual thing, you know. In northern countries, people go ice swimming for religious reasons, or after they’ve been in the sauna to open their pores and relax.”

“I can’t imagine relaxing in ice-cold water, and I don’t think I’d want to join a religion that said I had to jump into some to get closer to God,” Yuuri said, folding his arms and watching as Victor soaped his legs and rinsed them off.

“Yuuri, you’re so funny sometimes.” He stood up, nude and dripping. “Hand me my towel, will you?”

“Um…”

“It’s hanging on the fence just there with my other clothes.” Victor quirked a smile.

Yuuri went over and grabbed it, his cheeks burning, and handed it over. _This isn’t any different from bathing with other cowboys,_ he chided himself, willing the pink to drain out of his face. _I’ve stood naked in the river with Phichit and other guys lots of times. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about._ Apart from the fact that it was difficult to keep his eyes away from a body that looked like it had walked out of a sculptor’s studio as a fully formed masterpiece.

“Thank you,” Victor said, wrapping the towel around his waist and tucking it in place. _“Regardez l’eau.”_ He put his feet into a pair of slippers and then tipped the trough over, and soapy water flowed across the frozen ground. Next he strolled over to the fence and grabbed his clothes. “Have you been for breakfast yet?”

“Er, no.”

“Come on, then. I’ll just put these things on and then we can go.”

Victor’s preening habits aside, most days kept them busy from sunup to sundown, when they were glad to go straight to their bunks and get some sleep. They both continued with ordinary ranch duties – herding cattle, tending the horses, collecting and chopping firewood – and fit gymnastics and trick riding lessons and practice in when they could. Sundays were the best days for this; while the other men would sleep in, go to town, or perhaps find a patch of bare ground and play horseshoes, Yuuri and Victor spent hours together in the stable and corral.

This had begun the very first Sunday after Yuuri had arrived; and though he was hung over for part of it, he was as enthusiastic to make a start as Victor was. He had told Victor not to go easy on him, and he clearly respected Yuuri’s wishes. They had done more practice with the rings, that being Yuuri’s strong point, as he had already developed the muscles he needed for it to a degree – no more push-ups or extra chopping of firewood were now required while he had this to work on – and then Victor had shown him some simple exercises on the balance beam and vaulting horse. The former felt fairly comfortable, after his lessons with Clarissa, which he was continuing with two nights a week, having told Victor that it was business he was attending to in Larkspur at those times. He wasn’t entirely sure why he didn’t just come out and tell him the truth, but this was something Yuuri hadn’t told _anyone_ about, and he wasn’t sure how Victor would react. The worst possible outcome would be for him to tell Yuuri to stop this ridiculous arrangement of taking ballet lessons from a prostitute, though in all honestly he didn’t really think Victor would say any such thing. Nevertheless, he found a beam in the stable that worked well as a barre, and practiced on his own.

The vaulting exercises were presenting more of a problem. That first Sunday, when Victor had taken him through the basics of how to perform a front handspring, he’d struggled to get his feet where they needed to be at just the right moment, or didn’t coordinate his motions very well, and ended up tangled at awkward angles over and around the vaulting horse. Victor came over and showed him the details of how and where he needed to position himself, posing his arms and legs like a mannequin, which Yuuri found helpful and distracting in equal turns. It didn’t do any good on this occasion, however, and Victor suggested they pull out the pile of mattresses and Yuuri practice some more basic moves on those that would lead up to the actual vaulting. Yuuri couldn’t stop the rush of humiliation welling up inside him.

Victor noticed his disappointment. “We all have to start somewhere, Yuuri. You’re no beginner with most of these exercises; I’m impressed with how well you’ve done. Nobody’s perfect, so when you practice you should aim to improve whatever your weaker areas are.”

Yuuri wasn’t sure Victor had any of those, from what he’d seen, but as the days went by he learned that Victor was no less dedicated to practicing than he himself was. Sometimes they met together in the stable to work on gymnastics or various kinds of trick riding, beginning by polishing what Yuuri had already learned by himself. Biscuit needed some extra training, but Victor observed that she was a good-natured and calm animal who was ideal for this sort of work – and if she’d been able to go through a smoke-filled canyon at Yuuri’s behest without spooking, she should be able to handle what he asked of her in the corral.

What Yuuri really needed now was a trick saddle, which would make it easier and safer to perform the tricks he was learning, as well as some clothes that would enable him to fully engage with his gymnastics exercises; he hadn’t dared to try to do anything approaching splits yet. On one occasion he stripped down to his long johns, but unlike Clarissa’s room with its warm fireplace, the stables were cold every minute of the day this time of year. It might not bother Victor so much, but Yuuri had trouble standing it for long periods of time. He worked out in his coat and gloves when he could, though he took them off for activities like vaulting when they proved to be too much of a hindrance.

“It’ll be easier when the weather warms up,” Victor had told him. “In the summer I usually don’t wear anything other than my drawers while I’m doing gymnastics out here.”

Yuuri tried and failed to stop his imagination from conjuring a picture of this. He supposed it was better than being completely naked, at least, which he wouldn’t put past Victor, as the man seemed to have no shame at times. And would he himself be expected to parade around here like that? What would the other ranch hands make of it? They generally seemed to want to keep themselves to themselves, but they must have noticed the eccentric practices of their resident horse master. He was particularly fond of doing handstands in the bunkhouse; though true to his word, Yuuri had never seen him attempt anything more mobile like jumps or flips in there.

The Sunday after Yuuri arrived at the ranch, Victor suggested they ride into town in the afternoon to buy or order the kit they needed. “We’ll go to the saddler’s, then see what clothing we can get for your workouts,” he said.

Yuuri agreed, and when they arrived in Larkspur the first thing they did was order Yuuri’s trick saddle. Victor gave very specific instructions for how it was to be designed; but Fred Mueller didn’t bat an eyelid, obviously used to his unusual requests, and said he’d have it ready in a month. To Yuuri’s surprise, Victor insisted on buying it for him, and wouldn’t countenance any arguments to the contrary. Once again, Yuuri was left feeling like he’d received a kindness he didn’t deserve. And it wasn’t like he was a poor cowhand struggling to make ends meet every month. Victor had simply said that the saddle would be his most important piece of equipment as an apprentice, and he wanted to help Yuuri make a good start.

They went to the tailor’s shop after this and ordered Yuuri two pairs of pants that he could use for his workouts, which he planned to collect when he came back to get his saddle. Next they made their way to the Larkspur Mercantile, which sold an enormous and eclectic variety of goods, including ready-made shoes. Yuuri was delighted to discover that Phichit was there along with his father and younger brother.

Yuuri gave Mr. Chulanont a bow with his palms pressed together, but the shopkeeper darted from behind the counter and gave him an enthusiastic hug instead. “Yuuri, it’s been too long! It’s so good to see you.” He broke away and returned briefly to the counter, which was piled high with stacks of cans, small bags, fruit, and shining silver scales, and pressed a packet into Yuuri’s hands. It contained a good deal of tobacco, if Yuuri’s nose was any judge, the aroma faintly reminiscent of cherries. “For you, no charge,” Mr. Culanont added.

“I can’t take this,” Yuuri said in a quiet voice, unbuttoning his coat and reaching into a vest pocket to draw out some cash, but the shopkeeper held his hand up.

“You saved my son’s life. I will never forget it. I owe you a deep debt of gratitude. Please – ” He indicated the tobacco Yuuri was holding. “ – enjoy.”

He smiled and Yuuri forced himself to smile back. He didn’t need this to thank him for something he’d had no hesitation in doing in the first place, but out of politeness he tucked the packet into his vest. At that moment several other customers entered the store, and Phichit’s father turned to busy himself with them.

“He’d give you half the stuff in this place and still say he owed you,” Phichit said, ambling toward Yuuri on his crutches. “So how’ve you been? I saw you come in with Victor.”

Yuuri glanced around and saw Victor a distance away, looking at the shoe display. “Things are good,” he replied simply. “Really good. I’m learning so much from him, Phichit. But it isn’t easy. We do these strange exercises called gymnastics, and we’re working on the trick riding. I think this kind of stuff must take years to master.” Before Phichit could reply, he added, “But the big question is, how are you?” He nodded toward his friend’s leg.

“Oh, well, you know, it’s healing slowly but surely. The doc said it’s gonna be several weeks yet before I can go back to the Rafter T. But _apparently_ there’s a promotion in the stable waiting for me when I do – thanks to a certain someone. Really, I can’t wait. If I see or smell any more barrels of tar or molasses, that’ll be enough for a lifetime.”

Yuuri laughed and did some brief catching up with him, Phichit making sure he thanked Yuuri for his father’s generosity in helping him to kit back out after the incident in the canyon, then joined Victor near the shoes and chose a black flat-soled pair that would work well for exercising in. Victor bought himself some coffee and soap, and they both left Phichit with their best wishes for a speedy recovery, then exited onto the boardwalk.

“So are we ready to go back to the ranch?” Victor asked.

“We’ve got time for one more stop, don’t we?”

“Sure.”

“I think you might like this,” Yuuri said, walking on ahead.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

When they arrived at a tall red-painted wooden building with a sign outside proclaiming “The Belmont Hotel”, Yuuri gestured inside, and Victor followed curiously. “Let’s head over to the barroom,” Yuuri said. “They serve a drink there that I like.” When they entered, he told Victor to find a table. The room was fairly empty at this time of day, but a few people wearing a variety of clothing, from western wear to city suits and dresses, were scattered around the circular wooden tables. The main lighting came from a large window at the far end, framed by heavy red velvet curtains. A man in a brown pinstriped suit with a cigar and a bowler hat had just sat down on the piano bench nearby, stretching his fingers and plinking out what sounded like warm-ups or scales.

Yuuri came over to Victor’s table carrying two white earthenware mugs; he sat one in front of each of them as he took a chair. Victor sniffed at the steam rising up from his. “Hmm, this isn’t coffee.”

“No. It’s hot chocolate.” Yuuri took a sip from his mug and made a little sound of satisfaction. “I’ve had it a couple of times here before as a treat.”

“I’ve never tried it.” Victor eyed his mug. “What’s in it?”

“Chocolate, milk and sugar. Really – you’ve never had any before?”

“Liquid chocolate, hm? Sounds lovely.” Victor shook his head and took a sip, then paused to consider. “You know, Yuuri, as much as I appreciate your generosity in getting this for me, I think there’s one thing that would improve it.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

Victor dug into a deep pocket in his duster coat and produced a leather hip flask with a flourish. Yuuri’s eyes lit up and he laughed as Victor poured a little of its contents into each drink, after glancing at Yuuri for permission and receiving a nod. He replaced the hip flask and took a swig from his mug, then sighed contentedly and lowered his eyelids.

Yuuri took his time with his own drink, smiling as his insides warmed up nicely. It was only a little alcohol that Victor had poured in, but it complemented the rich chocolate taste. He closed his eyes for a moment and listened as the plinking piano notes changed into something more sophisticated and organized. It sounded like a waltz. He smoked a quirly while sitting back, listening, and watching Victor finish his drink.

“That was a real treat,” Victor said. “Very indulgent.”

“It hardly pays you back for the saddle,” Yuuri returned, grabbing up his leather pack and slinging the strap over his shoulder. Victor did the same. They took a few steps to leave when Yuuri put up a hand. “He’s playing a polka mazurka now. Can you dance to that?”

“Sure, it’s easy – why?”

“Come on,” Yuuri said, his brown eyes sparkling as he put his pack back down against the wall near the piano, slinging his coat and hat on top of it, Victor copying him. There was a clear space on the wooden floor behind it, near the window, that was obviously meant for dancing. Yuuri placed his right hand on Victor’s waist; and Victor, quickly noticing that his partner was taking the lead, stretched his arm out to rest on Yuuri's back. They clasped their free hands and began to move in lively circles, laughing as they made little leaps with their feet and twirled around to the music. Another couple, apparently deciding this looked like fun, got up to join them on the dance floor, and then another. Yuuri smiled into the blue eyes across from him and watched Victor’s pale bangs flop over his face. They both were accomplished at this, and Yuuri’s heart felt like it was soaring as they moved to the rhythmic pattern of the dance.

All too soon, however, the music ended and the piano player stood up, turning to look at the disappointed dancers. “I’m just practicin’ for tonight,” he explained in a flat tone, taking a puff of his cigar. “You all kin come back then if you want.” He closed the lid over the keys firmly, a discordant thrum echoing in the air as he did so.

Yuuri dropped his hands away from Victor’s, shaking his head and smiling as he shrugged his coat on, pulled his hat onto his head and picked his pack back up. He wondered what had gotten into him just now – what if Victor hadn’t wanted to dance? With him? It was fairly common for cowboys to do such things on ranches, where there were usually no women, though it might look a little odd in a hotel like this. But he’d felt confident somehow that Victor would go along with it and enjoy himself, which he seemed to have done.

“There’s no stopping you when there’s music playing,” Victor laughed as they left the hotel. “I liked that. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone in this country who liked dancing as much as you. Have you thought about having lessons?”

Yuuri was taken aback by this. “Um…”

“Well, we should have some time to get some practice in when we get back, before dinner. What would you like to work on?”   


	11. Chapter 11

There were a lot of things Yuuri wanted to work on – _needed_ to work on. As the days went by, he and Victor spent some time training Biscuit to respond to new, more subtle signals, or ones that could be given from areas on and around the horse where cowboys never sat as a rule. Yuuri asked to learn new riding tricks, but Victor thought it would be just as well to wait until his saddle was ready and he had some more expertise with the gymnastics. It was frustrating, but Yuuri respected Victor’s opinion and didn’t argue.

He could still work on the tricks he already knew and polish them as well as he was able, and Victor had agreed to teach him how to vault onto and off his horse. The problem with this was that while it looked simple and easy – like anything invariably did when it was performed by Victor – Yuuri was struggling. He still couldn’t get the hang of using the leather-covered wooden vaulting horse, with or without the springboard, and he couldn’t achieve the height he needed when he jumped. It usually resulted in his crashing onto the vaulting horse or into the back of Biscuit, which she made clear she wasn’t at all pleased with. He was already bruised and sore from working on the rings, the balance beam and the trick riding, but most of his injuries – thankfully minor in nature so far – were coming from this one thing he failed again and again at for whatever reason. While he took his turn helping to herd cattle or doing other ranch tasks – sometimes with Victor, sometimes with others – he would try to visualize himself doing what he needed to do to succeed, but it wasn’t materializing into physical reality.

It all came to a head one afternoon when Yuuri was in the corral with the vaulting horse and springboard and a mattress. Victor hadn’t accompanied him there and he didn’t know where he was, but he was familiar enough by now with all the apparatus that he felt confident using it on his own. Though _using_ it and _succeeding_ with it were two different things. He still hadn’t been able to manage a simple front handspring, and he was trying it now with the springboard. In the middle of his jump he missed a handhold on the vaulting horse and plummeted down, knocking his chin against the hard leather-covered wood. Stars burst before his eyes.

Some chuckles and guffaws issued from the fence, and as Yuuri stood up and rubbed his jaw he saw Ebenezer and a couple of other ranch hands looking at him in amusement. “’Bout time you left your playground and started acting like a cowboy, kid,” one of them drawled, munching on a toothpick. “Dunno what you do all that stuff for, but it sure looks to me like you ain’t cut out for it noways.” The other two men snickered.

Yuuri just glared and then tried to ignore them; they were within their rights to stand there if they wanted to, but he wasn’t going to let them get at him. A breeze kicked up and he shivered; he’d removed his coat, hat and gloves, as he found it impossible to do this particular exercise while wearing any of them.

This time he pushed the springboard aside and sketched a line in the ground with the toe of his shoe – he was wearing his new flat-soled ones for this – that would indicate to him where he needed to jump. He backed up, counting his paces, took a deep breath to center himself, ran forward as fast as he could – and overshot the horse when he put his hands on it, propelling over the back and landing in a heap away from the mattress. There were more laughs from the direction of the fence.

“Don’t you guys have any work to do?” he shouted angrily, his vow to ignore them broken.

“Nothin’ that can’t wait while we watch the show,” one of the men replied.

“There won’t be any more show,” Yuuri returned, standing and massaging his right calf muscle, which had pulled upon landing. “I’m done for today.”

They watched him as he put his coat, hat and gloves on, then lost interest and drifted away when he picked up the vaulting horse and springboard and took them back into the stable. He was surprised to see Victor leaning against the door to Luchik’s stall as he entered.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri muttered as he walked past and unceremoniously put the apparatus in its customary place. “I’ll do better next time.” He returned to the corral before Victor could answer, lifting the mattress and carrying it back to the stable, where he put it on the stack in the corner.

“Yuuri,” came Victor’s voice, “I’m worried about you hurting yourself with this. It’s meant to help you, not injure you.”

“I just need more time,” Yuuri said, coming to stand in front of him. “I know I can get it right with practice.”

“And if you break your neck, what good will that do?”

Yuuri folded his arms and looked at him steadily. “I won’t.”

Victor met his gaze and sighed. “Well, then. As your master – or whatever title you want to give me – I’m telling you to stop the trick riding and the vaulting as of this moment. You’re not in the right frame of mind for it, and I’m not going to watch you get hurt.”

Yuuri dropped his hands to his sides and stared in shock. His heart leaped into his throat. Victor was waiting for his reply. Shame, anger and disappointment in himself chased each other through his body until tears welled in his eyes. After a long, silent moment he asked, “How can you say that?” in a quiet voice as wet streaks formed down his cheeks.

“Yuuri, I – ” Victor began, clearly abashed.

“God knows I’m used to having to deal with my own mistakes – but what I do here reflects on you, too. And those men out there were laughing!” He had quickly raised his voice into a shout, the tears flowing freely. “Now you want me to just quit?”

“Of course not – ”

“I’ve been afraid all this time that if I couldn’t do these things you’re teaching me, you’d send me back to the Rafter T!”

Victor shook his head, keeping his voice low and calm. He appeared to be regretting his words, shocked at Yuuri’s reaction and aghast that he was the cause. “I’d never do that. The thought never even crossed my mind.”

“This is important to me, Victor. Please – I just need you to stand by me!”

It seemed that Victor didn’t know what to say. He just looked at Yuuri with wide eyes. After a moment, Yuuri made a “hmph” noise and strode out of the stable, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve.

“Yuuri, wait – ” Victor called, but Yuuri had no intention of pausing as he passed through the corral and let himself through the gate.

The bunkhouse seemed the best place to go for now. Yuuri shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked slowly down the path, which was mostly frozen mud glazed over in places with ice, and churned up in others from the constant coming and going of horses’ hooves. He kicked an empty tin can in his way. _Stupid Victor,_ he mused to himself. _Maybe he thought somehow he was encouraging me. Well, in a way maybe he was. I’m going to keep practicing out there until I do the best goddamn vaulting of my life._

***

During the following week, Yuuri hardly spent any time in the bunkhouse, apart from letting himself in late at night after Victor and most of the other ranch hands were asleep. He went about his usual activities during the day, though his conversations with Victor were subdued. He didn’t try vaulting while Victor was present in the stable, but he suspected that once or twice he’d been quietly standing in the shadows of the door leading to the corral while Yuuri had been out there going through his usual struggles. The other exercises he normally did weren’t neglected, but succeeding with the vaulting was always foremost in his mind. And yet even his renewed determination and time and effort were not paying off. He felt like a fish trying to force itself to breathe air.

One night he sat on a pile of straw in the stable, arms wrapped around his knees, listening to the whinnying and snorting of the horses as the yellow-orange light of his lantern flickered next to him. _What am I doing wrong?_ he wondered for the umpteenth time. Then he thought about how he’d taught himself to do some of the trick riding Victor had performed for him when he’d come here to see him last year. He’d broken each trick up into as many pieces as possible, concentrating on individual moves and how they could be achieved. And he’d also worked on other things like building up the appropriate muscles before he’d tried. Victor had shown him some exercises that he said should help prepare him for actual vaulting, but maybe he needed something more.

Victor was so experienced and talented that he seemed to be able to perform these exercises without thinking too hard about them. However, that didn’t mean that he knew how to break them down into manageable chunks to teach to someone else who was struggling at such a fundamental level. Yuuri speculated about Victor’s pedagogical methods with the Cossack men at the stables in Russia, and wondered if he’d perhaps specialized in teaching at an advanced level, like a university professor who might be able to explore the intricacies of the best literature with his students but not have a clue about how to get children to actually read and write.

Yuuri knew that if he were to succeed, it would be up to him to think of the final result he wanted to achieve and work out for himself what he would need to do to build up to it. What would work for _him_.

Heartened by this realization, he sat until his legs started going numb, visualizing the little things he could do that, when he had mastered them, could all be put together in a perfect vault. He thought out the details of each exercise and the equipment he’d need, and went over and over them in his mind until he felt confident that he’d memorized them. Only then did he silently return to the bunkhouse, once again the last man to crawl under the covers for the night.

“Burning the midnight oil again, I see,” came Victor’s sleepy voice from the bunk next to his.

“I guess so.”

“Yuuri…” Victor said after a pause.

“It’s OK, Victor. I’m good. Really.”

There was a sigh from Victor’s bunk, but no further words.           

***

Yuuri began doing handstands in the bunkhouse. He would face the wall, then plant his hands on the floor while he lifted his legs into the air, and hold that position while the back of his head gently touched the planks behind him. Some of the men who came and went stared at him as he did this, but most of them seemed to be used to it from having seen similar antics from Victor. Yuuri was doing it one morning when Victor briefly popped into the bunkhouse to collect some of his things, and they simply exchanged knowing smiles with each other. It felt to Yuuri like some of the ice that had grown between them since their argument started to thaw then.

When he had time by himself in the stable during the day, and continuing late into the nights, Yuuri practiced the other exercises he’d devised for himself. Victor only seemed to use the mattresses for landing on, but he discovered they were also very good for tumbling and jumping. He laid some of them out so that they formed a soft path in front of him, and bounced up, then vaulted forward onto his hands – without the vaulting horse or anything else between himself and the mat – and used his momentum to pinwheel so that he ended up in a standing position. This he practiced until he was sure he was keeping his legs and body straight, apart from the point where he needed to arch his back.

He also worked on hitting the mark for his feet during his run-up in the corral, trying to come as close to it as possible and then leaping – not onto the vaulting horse, but a stack of mattresses. Next he placed the mattresses a few feet behind the springboard and jumped from the stack, to the springboard, and into a front handspring on the vaulting horse. He enjoyed a degree of success with this that he hadn’t achieved when trying to vault before, and discovered that he liked the feeling of flying through the air the way he was supposed to. These and other exercises Yuuri worked on for another week or so, until he felt ready to start putting them together. When he gradually did, it felt like the pieces of a puzzle falling into place.

One Sunday morning, Yuuri and Victor had returned to the bunkhouse after breakfast and Victor’s customary cold bath in the trough outside. He had settled into the process of darning a sock, and Yuuri was smoking a cigarette – facing the stove, so that the smoke didn’t directly drift Victor’s way. He warmed his hands, then took the quirly out of his mouth and looked at Victor. “Have you got time today to see what I’ve been working on?” he asked him, feeling a nervous flutter in his stomach.

Victor looked up from his sewing, his large blue eyes staring placidly back. “Seeing as how I haven’t been allowed to see it all this time, I have to say I’ve been curious. When do you want to go over to the stable?”

Yuuri shrugged and crushed out the butt of his quirly. “No better time than the present.”

Victor smiled and put the half-mended sock down.

It was as cold as usual outside for the time of year, but Yuuri was getting used to removing his outerwear to do his exercises. He draped it over the corral fence and observed the vaulting horse, springboard and mattresses he’d set up, exactly how Victor had shown him back when he’d begun trying to vault.

 “Are you sure?” Victor ventured, standing in his customary place just inside the entrance to the stable.

Yuuri nodded firmly. He backed up to where he knew he needed to stand, then launched into his run-up, planted his feet where he’d practiced, leaped onto the springboard, flew into a front handspring with his palms in the correct place on the vaulting horse, then carried over into a landing that he almost got right, taking one step out with his foot in order to keep his balance. He put his hands up in the air, then turned around to gauge Victor’s reaction.

To his surprise, Victor was running toward him. He joined Yuuri where he stood on the mattress, wrapped his arms around him and gave him a warm hug. “That was amazing, Yuuri!” Yuuri happily returned the hug, burying his smile in Victor’s collar. Victor drew away a little and touched his forehead to Yuuri’s, looking like he wanted to say something more. Yuuri saw him swallow and lower his gaze for a moment, but his radiant grin never lessened, and soon those blue eyes were looking back into his. “I’m so proud of you. Do you think you could do it again?”

Yuuri nodded, hesitant to pull away but wanting to prove that this wasn’t just a fluke. He did three more vaults, two of them as perfect as he thought they could be, then returned to Victor, who was standing near the mattress. “I told you I could do it with practice,” Yuuri said, trying to keep any smugness out of his voice.

“You did. And I know how hard you worked. I almost wish you’d been a little kinder to yourself, but well…no one can fault you for what you’ve achieved. I’m just sorry about my choice of words that day when I…told you to stop. I didn’t mean permanently stop, but I could tell how much it upset you.”

“It’s OK, Victor,” Yuuri said, giving him a soft smile. “And it did encourage me to work harder.” They both chuckled.

“So how about doing something for a while that isn’t so demanding?”

“What have you got in mind?”

“Some Belmont hot chocolate sounds pretty welcome right now,” Victor replied with a wink. “Spiked with…” He got his hip flask out and raised it. “…‘Mystic Mountain Sippin’ Hooch’. No one around here seems to sell vodka – which is a crime, if you ask me – but this does the job in a pinch, don’t you think?”

Yuuri laughed and slipped his coat on.


	12. Chapter 12

Yuuri drowsed while the familiar clomp of boots and sleepy early-morning chatter filled the bunkhouse. He thought he heard Victor say something about coming back after he’d eaten breakfast, as he had something to ask him, but Yuuri wasn’t sure. Staying up late he could handle, but he always found it a struggle to make himself get out of bed in the morning. Besides, he liked his privacy when the men were gone. He was used to communal living by now, but some days he barely got a moment to himself, and it made him feel exhausted, like a battery that was unable to recharge.

He slipped into a dream for a while, then gradually resurfaced, sighed and got up. The chill in the bunkhouse was bad today, but he tried to ignore it. He stretched and yawned, stripped his clothes off, and walked over to the large tin basin at the far side of the room that the ranch hands used for their personal ablutions. One downside to getting up at this time was that the other men had already helped themselves to the water, so it was never very clean when it was Yuuri’s turn. He grabbed the cloth hanging on a nearby rail and laved the water over himself, glancing out of the window high on the wall next to him. The bright light went some way to driving the bleariness from his head.

The door to the bunkhouse opened suddenly and Victor stood there, peering at the other side of the room near the stove, where his and Yuuri’s bunks were. He looked confused.

“I’m here,” Yuuri said, running the cloth over his face. He gave it a good scrub, noticing the silence as he did so. “Victor?” He lowered the cloth and dunked it in the water.

“Y-Yuuri. There you are. I, uh…said I’d be back after breakfast.”

“Yeah, you said there was something you wanted to ask me?” He ran the cloth over his chest, then rinsed it out in the water and hung it back up. Victor was strangely quiet again, and Yuuri stood waiting. Then he realized that they weren’t used to this kind of situation yet, not together, as it had been winter the whole time Yuuri had been at the ranch and they hadn’t gone to the river to bathe or do their laundry. No one was used to seeing Yuuri nude like this, in fact; not here. He’d seen Victor having his crazy bath outside in the cold several times, but after the first time when he’d come close and visited him and fetched his towel, it had only been in passing as he’d gone to and from the bunkhouse.

“I…was wondering if you’d like to learn what we do here with the mustangs we catch,” Victor said in a voice that sounded slightly strangled.

Yuuri couldn’t help the blush that spread up his chest to his cheeks, and he quickly fetched the white towel lying on the floor next to him, dried off the droplets of water clinging to his skin, then draped it around his waist and walked toward his bunk without a glance back. It shouldn’t feel strange like this, he thought. Doing something so natural in the company of other men. Well, this one man, anyway.

“Mustangs,” he echoed as he sat down, yanking the towel off and quickly pulling his clothes on. He noticed that Victor had followed him and sat down on his own bunk, his back to Yuuri. He was bent forward and seemed to be fiddling with something on his boot.

“I went out with Chris and some of the other hands to round some up,” Victor said. “We start doing it at this time of year so that they’re ready for the cowboys to use when they trail the cattle to their summer pastures – ”

“ – and each one will be needing three or four horses a day,” Yuuri finished for him. “Yeah, we do the same at the Rafter T. But I’ve never been involved before. I don’t like the methods they use to train the horses.”

Victor turned his head back and looked at him approvingly. “There are other ways. I’ll show you some, if you like.”

Yuuri’s interest was piqued. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“OK. I’ll meet you at the stable in a few minutes; we’ll saddle up our horses and ride out.”

“I’ll come with – ”

“I’ve got some things I need to do first. See you over there.”

***

As Yuuri approached the large mustang corral on Biscuit alongside Victor and Luchik, he thought he’d rarely seen a more feral bunch of horses. He told Victor he would have enjoyed helping to round them up, though he knew it wasn’t possible for him to participate in each and every such activity on the ranch, and he was glad just to be riding out now to see what Victor planned to do. For his part, Victor promised to ensure that Yuuri came along the next time they needed to find more mustangs.

“Won’t it be dangerous to go in there with them?” Yuuri said dubiously as he drew up to the corral and dismounted.

“Not if you know what you’re doing,” Victor replied, jumping down from Luchik. “Like I said, we do things differently here. In fact, I’m only willing to work at a ranch where the boss allows me to use the training techniques I prefer. Abe here’s been good about that.”

“Cowboys always say that the way they break horses is fast and efficient,” Yuuri said as he leaned against the fence and watched the animals, which were shying away from the humans; a few of them bared their teeth. “Maybe it is, but it looks cruel to me.”

“I can’t believe some of the things I’ve seen.” Yuuri looked at him; he’d never heard Victor speak so scornfully. “Men tying horses down until they’re sick with fear, and forcing a saddle on them. Roping them to a tree for days until they’re starving and weak. They think they’ve got to break the horse’s spirit, and when they do they think it proves they’re real men.” Anger flashed in his eyes. “No creature deserves to be treated like that. The kind of horse training I learned in Russia might take a little longer, but it’s more effective, and you end up with a calm and good-natured animal.”

Yuuri stared at his companion, wondering how each new facet he discovered of this man could raise him still more in his estimation. “So how does that work?”

“Watch.” Victor opened the gate and shut it behind him, and Yuuri felt his stomach flip in fear as the horses reacted to his unwelcome presence; there were a dozen in the corral. Victor picked out a roan and walked slowly and calmly towards it, attempting to touch it. Yuuri gasped as it recoiled violently, slamming its hooves into the fence behind it with thunderous force. It grunted and snorted, expelling foggy plumes from its nostrils like a dragon. Victor was unharmed, however; and when he tried again to touch the horse, it surged forward and charged.

“Victor!” Yuuri cried.

But the charge was only a bluff, and the roan veered away before it got too close. Yuuri couldn’t understand how Victor was holding his nerve. Now the mustang was galloping in furious circles. It was a thing of savage, fearsome beauty, its mane flying as it stomped its hooves. Victor never flinched; his spine was rigid, and with his arms raised and elbows bent, he held his palms open. He maintained this pose for perhaps a minute, the horse coming to a standstill a few feet in front of him. Victor edged slowly closer to it, extended his right hand, and to Yuuri’s wonderment stroked the mustang along its neck, which was quivering. Its ears pivoted forward and its panting gradually subsided.   

“Oh my god,” Yuuri breathed.

Victor walked over to the gate with a smile, the horse – to Yuuri’s continuing wonderment – following, and even nuzzling Victor’s arm. It had been less than fifteen minutes since Victor had set foot in the corral. “You see,” he said to Yuuri. “Brute force doesn’t work as well as many people think. There are alternatives.” He paused. “Would you like to take a turn?”

Yuuri’s eyes shot open in alarm, but Victor told him he could just stand next to him for a start, if he wanted, and get used to being in the corral and watch what Victor was doing. After a moment of digging up his courage, Yuuri agreed; and before long he and Victor were taking turns with the mustangs. Victor said that their only job here today would be to get the animals used to a well-meaning human presence, and they would come out on other days to ride the horses and teach them commands. They would use ground handling techniques to build rapport and mutual understanding with them, such as training them on a longe line or loose in the corral; never anything that resulted in pain or fear. Yuuri had done many of those things himself before, but never with mustangs; he’d been raised to believe it simply wasn’t possible.

“You’re an endless source of amazement,” he gushed as they finished with the last horse for the day.

Victor chuckled. “I love surprising people.”

“You do a good job of it.” Glancing down at the ground, he added, “Oh crap,” as he noticed that his glasses case had fallen out of his coat pocket. It had been in there instead of in his vest for the sake of convenience when he rolled a quirly. Picking it up, he slipped his glasses out and inspected them.         

“I can’t imagine that case gives them much protection,” Victor observed, eyeing the beat-up old piece of leather.

“I guess not. At least the lenses haven’t broken. Wouldn’t be surprised if this has been stepped on by one of the horses.” He twisted an arm back into shape. “Anyway, that should do.” He slipped the glasses back into their case and put it away. “Victor…thanks for bringing me out here today. I’m going to have to see what they’ve been doing with the mustangs at the Rafter T. Maybe it’s time to make some changes.”

Victor’s eyes sparkled. “That’s good to hear.”

***

Soon afterward, Yuuri found himself back in town with Victor, collecting his new saddle and clothes from the tailor. He felt more confident putting his full effort into his exercises now that he had pants made from a soft, flexible material, and he’d gotten himself some white short-sleeved cotton pullover shirts as well. It would still be a while before it was comfortably warm enough outside to wear them for any appreciable length of time, however.

His initial reaction to his saddle was that it was strange but beautiful. Not having been broken in yet, its smooth chestnut-colored surface glistened and gave off a perceptible fresh-leather smell. The silver-colored saddle horn, which was larger than usual, would make tricks easier that required grabbing it, sometimes with both hands. Victor showed him what the different straps were for, and Yuuri could suddenly see many different possibilities for gymnastic-style moves and poses that could be executed with their aid.

Finally Victor was willing to begin showing him some new tricks, first while Biscuit was stationary, and then while she was moving at a slow pace. They did not spend a great deal of time together on this, however, because Victor had told Yuuri that he was going to compete in the annual May rodeo, and needed to practice. Sometimes Yuuri wanted nothing more than to stand and watch him, and Victor was content to let him do so. It was rare that he made a mistake in his riding, though it did occasionally happen; but he never looked embarrassed as he got up, brushed himself off, and tried again, invariably with success the next time. Yuuri tried to learn from what he was seeing, and thought he could stand there and watch for the rest of his life and never grow tired of it.

One afternoon when Victor finished on Luchik for the day, he walked over to Yuuri, who had been standing and watching near the entrance to the stable. “I’ve been wondering if my rodeo act would benefit from something different this year,” he said. “I thought I might try adding a little lasso work. You’re the expert in that – could you show me?”

“Um,” Yuuri spluttered, momentarily taken aback. “But you know how to use a lasso, Victor. I doubt if there’s much I could show you that you can’t already do.”

Victor laughed. “Are you serious? I’ve seen you swing it around yourself while you were dancing – very gracefully, I might add – on top of a moving horse. I can’t do that.”

“Oh.” That damn blush again. “Uh, is that what you want to do?”

“I think it would be a lot for me to aim for all at once. But…maybe you could show me how to swing it around myself while I’m moving on the ground?”

“It’s easy. If you tried it, I think you’d find that out pretty fast.”

Victor just stood and looked at him with an intensity that made Yuuri’s insides flutter nervously. “Why do you do this to yourself?”

“Do what to myself?”

“Put yourself down. Make it sound like the things you can do are no big deal. Do you honestly not recognize the talent you have?”

Yuuri crossed his arms and shifted his eyes anywhere but in Victor’s direction. He didn’t know what to say, so he swallowed and remained silent.

The next thing he knew was the feeling of fingers under his chin, lifting it up. Victor’s fingers. Making him return his gaze. Then the fingers fell away, and Yuuri wondered if he’d imagined it. “The things people like you and I are good at are things that people in places like this don’t recognize or appreciate unless they’re performed in a rodeo or some dance hall. It’s just a little light entertainment for them. But there are people in other parts of the world who dedicate their lives to them. It’s a shame you haven’t had the chance to experience that. You’re trying to do it here, but all people want is a cowboy who’s good with cattle and horses. I wish I could show you…the things we could see and do where I grew up…” His voice trailed off and Yuuri continued to stare at him, bemused. “Well. Please don’t sell yourself short, Yuuri. You’re doing yourself an injustice.”

 _I’ve never heard a speech like that before,_ Yuuri thought in wonderment. _And he sounds like Clarissa again. They’d get along well._ He was still at a loss for words.

“So how about showing me some of those lasso moves?” Victor prompted with a soft smile.

“Yeah, s-sure.”

“Here,” Victor said, taking his own rope from Luchik’s saddle, “let’s use this.” He handed it to Yuuri. “Why don’t you show me how to hold it?”

Yuuri huffed a laugh. “You _know_ how to hold it.”

“Maybe this is different from lassoing a steer, hm? What do you do with your fingers?” He held the rope loosely, the ends dangling from his half-open palm.

With a sigh of resignation, Yuuri stepped closer and ensured that Victor was holding a double length of rope. “Then you just…” he said, helping him to position his fingers properly. Their bodies were touching slightly. He could hear Victor’s steady breathing. _Why is he doing this? He knows how to use a lasso._ His lungs didn’t want to work, his mouth had gone dry, and he had become aware of his heartbeat. “…like that,” he managed to finish, stepping back.

Victor’s warm eyes were on him, the corners of his mouth raised. “Thanks,” he said. “So, what next?”

“Well it depends what you want to do. Try…” He made a motion with his hand of twirling the rope in circles in front of him. Victor copied this with a delighted smile. “That’s a flat spin. Try moving it around. Or you can move around yourself.” Yuuri watched as Victor got the lasso whirling at a good speed.

“That’s about all I can manage, I think. Why don’t you show me what you’d do?”

“Uh…OK.” Yuuri took the rope from him and immediately began spinning it in wide loops over the ground, seemingly as an afterthought. “Then you can…” he muttered, almost to himself, as he whirled the loop in the air above him, and brought it down so that it was circling his body. He decided to try a few of the moves that Clarissa had taught him, performing a slow dance within the confines of the whirling rope, arching his back, doing dips and holding his free arm above his head. It was fun to see what he could achieve in the limited space – he’d have to practice this some more. Then he came back to himself, remembering that Victor was quietly watching him. He stopped and let the lasso fall.

“That was beautiful,” Victor whispered. “Where did you…” But he cut himself off.

It was unusual for Victor to be the one at a loss for words, and Yuuri glowed inside with the praise. He gathered up the rope and handed it back to Victor. “We can practice some more another time if you want, but I really don’t think this is in the same league as the trick riding and – ”

“I’d like that,” Victor said simply.


	13. Chapter 13

As their ranch duties allowed, they continued with their gymnastics and trick riding, sometimes together, sometimes separately. Yuuri showed Victor the techniques he knew with the lasso, though Victor seemed to want to learn them more for his own enjoyment than for his rodeo performance, which he was choreographing like something in a stage show. He always politely refused to share the details with Yuuri, however, reminding him that the fun was in being surprised. Yuuri was burning with curiosity but knew he would have to be patient. In the meantime, he prided himself particularly on the progress he’d made with vaulting, and was attempting to add an extra somersault as he flew through the air after planting his palms on the vaulting horse, which was also resulting in more bruises.

Usually they were both tired from a long day by the time they got back to the bunkhouse, but one Saturday night in March, Chris and several of the other ranch hands decided to go out to the Wagon Wheel and managed to persuade Victor to come, who in turn persuaded Yuuri to leave the comfort of his bunk and the stove. However, once they arrived in Larkspur, a disagreement broke out, as a majority of the men declared they were tired of always going to the Wagon Wheel and they wanted to go someplace different – like Sweetwater Sam’s. Yuuri gulped when he heard this and tried to talk them out of it. He noticed Victor giving him a curious look but ignored it. Saturday nights were always the busiest in town, due to men from the local ranches wanting to enjoy a night out before their day off, and Clarissa would almost certainly be performing. Would she see Yuuri in the crowd and do something embarrassing? He wouldn’t put it past her, though he had not changed his mind about trusting her to keep his lessons a secret.

Resigned to whatever fate awaited him at Sweetwater Sam’s, Yuuri walked with the other men down the dark streets of the town until they were approaching the large bare-planked saloon with lanterns hanging outside. They made their way one at a time through the batwing doors and into the dim, stuffy, noisy, smoky lantern-lit interior that Yuuri knew well. While his companions went to the bar, Yuuri stood still, quickly rolled himself a quirly, lit up, and sucked the smoke in like his life depended on it. There was no sign yet of Clarissa or any other entertainers, but the night was still young.

“Do you not like it here?” came a voice from behind him, and he turned to see that Victor was there, still looking at him with curiosity.

“I, uh, just prefer the other saloons in town,” he said, sucking on the cigarette again.

Victor stepped closer and asked him quietly, “Is something wrong?”

Yuuri coughed. “No. I guess we’d better get some drinks.” He headed to the crowded bar, and Victor followed. Chris made space for them and they ordered some beers, then the three of them sat down at a table together. They were joined by Zach Larsen, who Yuuri was surprised but pleased to see. He found that conversation came easily to him – without, for once, having to first imbibe a large quantity of alcohol – as he felt comfortable in this little group, and was interested to hear what Zach had to say about recent goings-on at the Rafter T. It turned out that Yuuri hadn’t missed much, apart from Phichit returning and settling back into his work at the ranch. Yuuri was relieved to know that his young friend had not received any permanent injuries. His own wound had healed some time ago, though the new skin on his arm where the burn had been was a slightly different color, and he figured he would have a permanent scar there.

Enthralled by a tale Chris was telling about a cattle drive to Mexico that involved vaqueros, missionaries, bandits, dangerous river crossings and plenty of tequila, Yuuri hadn’t noticed that someone had begun playing the piano, and he filtered out the claps and cheers from the crowd as part of the ambient noise on a busy night. It wasn’t until he heard his name exclaimed by someone standing almost right in front of him that he jerked his head up and suddenly paid attention to what was happening.

“It is _formidable_ to see you here, _mon chéri_! But you did not tell Clarissa you would be attending her performance – why is this?”

 _What the hell?_ was Yuuri’s first thought. _She doesn’t talk like this when I see her._ And then: _Oh my god. No, no, no…_

Clarissa was wearing a cream-colored costume featuring a low-cut top that was fitted like a corset, with decorative criss-crossed laces and red piping down the front. It had short puffy sleeves and a many-layered frilly skirt that ended just above her stockinged knees, again trimmed around the hem with red piping. There were red soft-soled shoes on her feet – Yuuri had seen her wearing these occasionally when she’d been demonstrating ballet moves for him – and her lips and fingernails were also slicked with the customary garish color. She had done her hair up in a high ponytail, and her face was as heavily made up as usual.

She batted her eyelashes at him. “My dear Yuuri, where are your manners? This is the first time you have come to see Clarissa dance – come and show a lady a good time, eh, _chéri_?”

“Clarissa, what are you doing?” he whispered as she placed a friendly hand on his shoulder.

“Why, asking you to join me, _mon trésor_.”

She now held her hand out in a sweeping gesture for him to take. Horrified at the situation he’d been landed in, he looked at his companions around the table. Chris had an amused expression on his face and was chuckling. Zach was passively sipping his beer. Victor’s mouth was hanging open; he looked like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Yuuri really, really wanted to explain – though he suddenly realized that the explanation itself would take some explaining, too. But before he could say anything, he was tugged up and over to the stage area near the piano.  

“Do as I say,” Clarissa whispered into his ear. Then she struck a starting ballet pose on her toes, her arms arced over her head, and the piano began to tinkle a merry tune. She bowed to Yuuri while raising one leg and said in a quiet voice, “Copy me.” He did so, and she took his hand and kissed it, which elicited hoots from the audience.  Still holding his hand, she raised it up in the air and did a series of pirouettes underneath it while he held still.

Yuuri realized that he could choose to continue to stand there like an idiot who had been co-opted into Clarissa’s act, or he could attempt to turn in an impromptu performance with some degree of success, using what she’d taught him. He would have to have words with her about what she’d done, though she hadn’t given anything away as such. And if his companions briefly thought that he was a well-known and affectionate client of hers – ? Maybe the joke could be on them for now. Though the look of shock he’d seen on Victor’s face hadn’t been very funny.

Clarissa continued to whisper “copy me” when she wanted him to do so, though a look or gesture also served the purpose; and at other times Yuuri simply made up some moves that he thought were well matched to those she was performing. She stroked his hair back and encouraged him to dip her low, wrapping an arm around his neck. He lifted her and spun her around. To his surprise, Yuuri found he was enjoying himself and this little show they were performing. It was also the first time he’d done anything resembling ballet for an audience of more than one, and the sensation that flowed through him as he moved was intoxicating. After a while, he lost himself in it; he felt like he’d been born to dance.

All too soon, it seemed, the piano music stopped, and Clarissa leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek. “This is my Yuuri – I have trained him well, _non_?” she announced to the crowd, and they whistled and hooted; some made gestures indicating what the pair of them were obviously getting up to in private. As Clarissa made a theatrical bow, Yuuri did the same, and they both walked back to the table.

“I’ll see you later, _mon beau_ ,” she said, ghosting her fingers under Yuuri’s chin, winking at the other men at the table, and sashaying away to perform another number.

“You sly ol’ dog,” Chris drawled, reaching across and mock-punching Yuuri’s arm.

Zach was still sipping his beer, his only reaction a slightly raised eyebrow. Victor looked like he was trying to remain passive as well; outwardly he seemed to want to say, _It’s normal to visit prostitutes; I understand that._ But there was also something questioning in his eyes that said, _I thought I knew you._

“Is that what you been doin’ them nights you go out?” Chris continued with a smile. “Goddamn, you’re keepin’ her busy.” He guffawed and gulped down the rest of his beer. Victor was looking quietly down at his own drink.

Zach sat up and looked at the trio he was with, then said to Chris, “Hey, why don’t we go over to the bar and get us some more drinks? I wanna see what they got. I don’t come here that often – in fact, it’s a good thing I spotted all of you headin’ this way, or I’d probably still be waitin’ for you in the Wagon Wheel.” As Chris agreed and got out of his chair, Zach nodded to Yuuri and then followed the Texan to the bar.

Yuuri crossed his arms and sighed, looking at Victor, who was giving him that strange expression in return.

“Yuuri, I’m not going to judge – ”

“She’s my ballet teacher,” Yuuri said simply, holding his gaze.

There was a pause. “What?”

“My _ballet_ teacher.” He continued to sit with his arms crossed, leaning back in his chair, but now a small smile began to quirk at the corners of his mouth.

It was fascinating to watch the emotions crossing Victor’s face, one after the other. His brows knitted in confusion. Then they lifted in shock. Then a flicker of understanding lit up his eyes. Then he smiled, and the smile turned into a long laugh. Yuuri laughed as well, feeling the tension of a moment before draining out of him.

“Are you serious?” Victor said, still chuckling.

Yuuri nodded and took a sip of his own drink, which he’d barely touched yet. “Yeah. I’ve been paying her for lessons twice a week for about five months now. And…” he added with an amused smile, “…that’s _all_ I’ve been paying her for.”

“So that’s where you learned the ballet moves I’ve seen you using all this time,” Victor mused out loud, still smiling himself. “I did wonder. But…why didn’t you tell me?”

“I dunno. I guess I got used to keeping it a secret from everyone. I mean, it’s not the kind of thing a cowboy’s supposed to be doing, you know? And…well, I guess I wasn’t sure how you’d react either, and I was in the habit of keeping quiet about it – ”

Victor reached out and put a hand on top of Yuuri’s on the table. “Dancing ballet is nothing to be ashamed of, Yuuri. In fact, it’s ideal training for trick riding. I think it’s a wonderful idea for you to be taking lessons.”

Yuuri took this in, and grinned.

Victor’s voice dropped to a hushed tone. “Do you think you’d like to tell Chris too, after what he’s seen just now? If anyone’s good at keeping a secret, it’s him. We talk sometimes, you know, as friends do on a ranch, and I think he’d understand. Unless you want him to carry on thinking you’re seeing Clarissa for other reasons. Which,” he added with a shrug, “is perfectly OK…”

Before Yuuri could reply, however, Clarissa had returned. “Hey there, cowboy. Who’s this _homme élégant_ with you?”

“This is Victor,” Yuuri said, sitting back and sipping his drink.

“ _Ravi de vous connaître, Clarissa_ ,” Victor said. “ _Je vous ai déjà vue quelques fois danser ici. Vous êtes très belle. Et talentueuse._ ”

Yuuri goggled at him. Was that French?

Clarissa’s hands flew up to her face in delight. “ _Il est si rare que l’on s’adresse à moi en français, par ici ! Je suis honorée ! Et par un être tout à fait charmant, de surcroît_.”

Victor waved modestly. “ _Vous me flattez._ ” He paused and finished his beer. “ _Je me dois aussi de vous remercier de prendre soin de mon ami pour moi._ ”

“ _Eh bien, il en a besoin, savez-vous. Bien que je le suspecte… il se pourrait bien qu’il ait trouvé une autre personne pour ce faire_.” She lifted an eyebrow inquisitively. Victor looked back at her impassively and didn’t reply.

“Kin anyone join this conversation, or do ya hafta be drunk first before ya kin talk like that?” Chris asked, plonking two beer mugs on the table as he returned with Zach.

Clarissa gave Yuuri’s shoulder an affectionate pat. “I’ll see you soon, cowboy.” Then she winked at Victor. “ _Ne faites rien que je ne ferais pas moi-même_.” A quiet laugh escaped him as she left.

***

A few nights later, Yuuri arrived at Clarissa’s at the usual time, prepared to talk about what had happened downstairs in the saloon. But she beat him to it.

“Before you complain, just keep in mind that I did you a favor,” she said as she opened the door and let him in. She was wearing a shimmering blue robe trimmed with some fluffy white material tonight, along with matching white slippers, and her hair was done up in its customary pile on top of her head. A cigarette in her hand trailed smoke behind her as she walked. “You gonna have a drink for once, or am I gonna have to polish this stuff off all by myself?”

Yuuri began to remove his clothes down to his long johns, a habit that was automatic by now. “What do you mean, you did me a favor?” he asked, ignoring her second question.

She took a sip of her drink, then had a drag of her cigarette as she watched him carry out his routine. “That was some fine dancing you did with me, you know,” she said, ignoring his own question. “You did me proud. Maybe you’re learning something from these little sessions after all.”

Yuuri just raised an eyebrow and waited.

“All right. The ranch men think you’re a regular client of mine now. Well you are, but not in the sense they believe. They’ve got a new appreciation of your masculinity.”

Yuuri half-smiled at her in confusion as he kicked off his boots. “That’s something I needed, is it?”

“Well…maybe it is. By the way, you and that Victor fella make a lovely couple.”

Yuuri shot a look up at her, pausing in the middle of pulling off a sock. “Yeah, we work well together,” he said, finishing the action and pulling the other one off, then standing up and draping a hand on the chair that he used as a barre. “Tending the horses and cattle, trick riding, that kind of thing.”

“That’s not what I said,” she corrected him, taking a puff of her cigarette and continuing to watch him. “I said you make a lovely _couple_.”

Yuuri’s throat hitched. He wasn’t entirely sure what she was getting at, but if he thought about it he guessed he could form a suspicion, and he didn’t want to go there. Not now, at any rate. Besides, she came out with some eccentric things at times.

“OK,” Clarissa said in a louder, business-like voice that Yuuri knew meant she was ready to get to work. “We agreed to go over the derrière positions today, didn’t we? I like those.”      

***

A thaw finally set in later in March, though the men all knew the weather could be fickle at this time of year and therefore it was best not to take anything for granted; in the morning the sun could be blazing over the hills, and by the afternoon a blizzard could be rolling in off the mountains. Still, Yuuri was glad to be feeling a little warmer as he did his gymnastics and barre exercises around the stable, now without any need to practice in secret. The snow around the ranch slowly began to melt, leaving patches of bare soil and wheat-colored half-dead grass that would shoot back into life in a month or so. It was also the beginning of calving season on the ranch, which would soon be taking up much of the ranch hands’ time.

Yuuri worked assiduously on the trick riding that Victor had shown him, though the man himself was mostly practicing for his performance in the rodeo now, and Yuuri continued to watch when he could. He kept wondering if there was some specific goal he could set himself so that he felt he had something to work toward, but he knew he wouldn’t be ready to compete in this rodeo, which was only two months away. He did, however, enjoy coming up with ideas for competitions with Victor when they trained together, and it seemed that Victor enjoyed them as well. How many chin-ups could each of them do in one go before they had to stop? Who could hold a pose the longest time on the rings? Who could do the highest vault? (Though admittedly that wasn’t one Yuuri thought he’d ever win.)

Yuuri knew he was gradually growing stronger, and the exercises and tricks were becoming easier for him to perform, as well as the ballet moves he was learning; an added bonus was that he wasn’t falling and getting bruised as often, either. They felt like bittersweet achievements, however, when he remembered what Victor had said about people in other countries who did these things as their life’s work. They must be able to take a lot of pride in it, and those around them had an understanding and appreciation of what they did. It made Yuuri wonder what might have been possible for him if he had been born somewhere else, with different opportunities. But then he’d remind himself that he hadn’t gotten a bad deal, after all, and a lot of folk were worse off than himself.

He found himself chatting to Victor about this and other things one Sunday afternoon as they walked along the Gypsum River, with no particular aim in mind other than to do something leisurely for a while on such a glorious day. It was the first truly warm one of the year, with temperatures well above average, and Yuuri was wearing his gray knee-length coat rather than his heavy sheep’s-wool one, while Victor just had his tan duster over his shirt and pants. Both were wearing their Stetsons, and their heeled boots sunk into moist earth that was laden with water from melting snows.  

“I’ve wondered sometimes why you decided to come to a place like this,” Yuuri said as he took a drag from his quirly.

Victor’s eyes were on the scene in front of him: blue mountains peaked with caps of ice, feathery white clouds brushed across a deep azure sky, sunshine glittering on virgin stretches of snow, swaths of deep green pines, a sprinkling of delicate snowdrops where the grass was starting to form shoots. “Is it so bad?” he said.

“On days like today?” Yuuri shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”“Me either. But…to answer your question, I’ll tell you some other time. It’s kind of a long story.” He paused, then looked at Yuuri, who was walking by his side. “I think maybe you have one of your own to tell, am I right?”

“Ah.” Yuuri folded his arms, his cigarette still between his fingers. “Maybe it’s better to leave that for another day too.” He sighed. “It’d just spoil the mood.”

Victor glanced at him inquisitively for a moment, then looked ahead again as they walked slowly along. “It’s nice to see some signs of life after a long winter,” he commented as they passed a beaver lodge built on the river, while a brown hare bounded away on the other side of the water.

“I know what I can show you,” Yuuri said, struck by an idea as he tossed the butt of his quirly away. “Come on, this way. I found it just a few days ago while I was out here on Biscuit.”

Victor followed Yuuri as they veered away from the river toward an old wind water pump mill with rusting turbines. “It was at an angle from this old thing, just over there,” Yuuri continued, holding a hand out in front of him to gauge the direction. “By that cottonwood tree.”

“What is it?” Victor asked as they went along.

“You’ll see.”

When they got to the tree, its myriad bare branches feathering out to the sky up above, Yuuri looked down around the roots and then gestured. “It’s an earth. There’s a vixen in there with some cubs. If you look close, you can see them.”

Victor squatted down and, keeping his distance, peered inside. “Ah yes, there they are. They’re all sleeping. Aren’t they beautiful.”

They stood and watched in silence for a while, side by side; then Yuuri said quietly, “I don’t suppose many folks would be interested in this. But I think there’s something special about seeing all these critters out here getting on with their busy lives with no concern for what we humans are doing. They’re more suited to living here than we are.”

Victor’s mouth broke into a small, fond grin, and he extended an arm around Yuuri’s waist. Yuuri gave a tiny gasp and then stopped breathing altogether; but his surprise gradually gave way to the feeling of warmth and calm he was used to from Victor’s hugs when he had done something well – usually a vault; and he loosely lifted his own arm to wrap around Victor’s waist. He discovered that he was also resting his head against Victor’s arm.

“Yuuri,” came Victor’s voice after a moment, “you do realize that most people, if they knew these foxes were here, would want to shoot them?”

“I know,” he answered, lifting his head up. “That’s why I haven’t told anybody – apart from you.”

“You don’t think they might get a taste for some of the animals on the ranch?”

Yuuri slipped his arm away from Victor’s waist and toed at the ground. “Well, there’s a six-foot-high fence around the chicken coop, and it’s in good shape. And the only cow a fox eats is a dead one. I’ve heard people say they can try to eat calves, but I’ve never seen that happen the whole time I’ve been on a ranch. There’s plenty of smaller animals around that are easier for them to catch.”

Victor smiled at him. “I wonder if they know they have such a determined defender in you.” Yuuri laughed. “Well if that’s how you feel, I won’t tell either. I think a lot of foxes must live out here without us knowing about it, and I’m not aware that it’s been a problem at the ranch. Not in recent times, anyway.”

A pair of wide, sincere brown eyes turned up to his. “Thanks.” Yuuri thought for a moment. “Say…how far away from the ranch do you reckon we are?”

“Hm, maybe a couple of miles. Why?”

“Well, I haven’t done any exercises yet today. Want to try your luck in a race back?” He smirked and raised his eyebrows.

“Luck? I don’t need luck,” Victor said in a low voice as he leaned in toward Yuuri, his eyes glittering mischievously. “I’ll leave you in the dust, Yuuri Taylor.”

“You wish. On the count of three?” Victor nodded. “One…two…three!”

It was amazing, the start Victor made – how he leaped forward and sprinted gracefully, his long legs flying. But Yuuri knew two things as he pursued him: that he himself possessed a lot of stamina, almost certainly more than Victor; and that sprinting at the start of a longer run was likely to sap the energy that was needed toward the finish. He therefore paced himself as he watched Victor initially make a lot of headway, though the growing gap between them was challenging his confidence. He couldn’t let that gap get _too_ wide, or they’d end up being like the tortoise and the hare – and Victor wasn’t the type to arrogantly sit back and take a break in the middle of a race.

The first obstacle on the way back to the ranch soon presented itself. Walt was in front of a line of goats, herding them to lusher grass near the river, the whole of the procession moving slowly. Yuuri saw Victor veer around them, but they’d now moved so that they were blocking the way equally on either side of his own path. With little time to think, Yuuri pushed his hat down firmly in place and, as he neared the herd, sprang up, doing a somersault in the air and landing firmly on the other side of the line, using his momentum to carry on running. He heard Walt cry out behind him, and was surprised at himself for having done what he just had, almost instinctively. Well _that_ was something he never would have been able to do before the vaulting and the other gymnastics, he thought with a giddy rush of excitement.

He spotted Victor a few dozen yards away, his body twisted slightly backward so that he could see where Yuuri was, and Yuuri thought he saw a stunned smile cross his face before he quickly whipped back around and carried on running. Victor had seen that one of the rules of this competition was that barriers could be overcome as well as avoided; and as he encountered large rectangular hay bales in the field, he either jumped onto them, ran over them and sailed back off without slowing down, or vaulted over them. Yuuri would have thought it was the strangest sight he’d ever seen not long ago, but he was used to watching Victor do these things at the ranch, and was even able to do them himself – as he discovered to his delight, copying Victor’s tactics as he encountered the hay bales.

As he approached the outermost ranch buildings, he noticed that he was gaining on his opponent. Victor was starting to wear out, but Yuuri had waited until this moment to dig deep and find the extra burst of strength that he had been saving up. He watched Victor circle around the barn, as the way between it and the shack next to it was blocked by an old mule cart with a broken wheel; but Yuuri clambered up the wagon and sprang clear from the other side, landing almost next to a surprised Victor who was just rounding the corner. They briefly eyed each other up and then made a mad dash for the corral, flying past several bemused ranch hands on the way, each glancing several times at the other to gauge his progress. Neither of them could hide a smile.

When they both arrived neck and neck at the corral fence, they grabbed the top of it without a moment’s hesitation and, in tandem, used their momentum to loft themselves up and to the side, clearing the top of the fence and landing together on the other side, then racing the rest of the way to the stable door. They were dashing and pinwheeling their arms, trying to get what extra distance they could in the final few strides. They both allowed themselves to crash against the sun-warmed wooden planks of the stable wall, panting and doubling over with laughter.

“You gave me…a run for my money, as they say,” Victor managed to get out, clapping a hand on Yuuri’s back.

Yuui clasped his arm, still laughing between gasps. “I think you might have beaten me by an inch or two.” He straightened up and pulled off his hat to wipe his forehead.

“Well…I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry after all that. Do you think…we could see if they’ve got any…food left over at the cook shack for a couple of worn-out cowboys?”

Yuuri made a “hmph” noise. “Sonofabitch stew?”

Vicor chuckled. “It could be worse. If they offer you fucking-hell fricassee…I suggest you decline.” As Yuuri breathed out a startled laugh, Victor added, “I made that up.”

Yuuri punched his arm playfully and shook his head. “All right, then. Let’s go see what they’ve got.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A (historically accurate, though not strictly literal) translation of Victor and Clarissa’s conversation at Sweetwater Sam’s, with the French marked in italics:
> 
> “This is Victor,” Yuuri said, sitting back and sipping his drink.
> 
> “ _Pleased to meet you, Clarissa_ ,” Victor said. “ _I’ve seen you dance here a few times before. You’re beautiful and talented_.”
> 
> Yuuri goggled at him. Was that French?
> 
> Clarissa’s hands flew up to her face in delight. “ _It’s so rare that someone speaks my language to me here! I’m honored! And you’re beautiful yourself, my fine fellow_.”
> 
> Victor waved modestly. “ _You flatter me_.” He paused and finished his beer. “ _And thank you for looking after my friend here for me_.”
> 
> “ _Well, he needs it, if you ask me. Although I suspect…maybe he’s found someone else who will, too_.” She lifted an eyebrow inquisitively. Victor looked back at her impassively and didn’t reply.
> 
> “Kin anyone join this conversation, or do ya hafta be drunk first before ya kin talk like that?” Chris asked, plonking two beer mugs on the table as he returned with Zach.
> 
> Clarissa gave Yuuri’s shoulder an affectionate pat. “I’ll see you soon, cowboy.” Then she winked at Victor. “ _Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do_.” A quiet laugh escaped him as she left.


	14. Chapter 14

A silence had fallen over the land, broken only by the steadily strengthening gusts of wind that sloped down from the mountains, accompanied by an iron-gray sky. A few small, stubborn patches of snow lingered in dips or heaps where it had drifted after it had fallen, though the winter chill clearly had other ideas about deserting this place for good before the spring banished it completely.

Yuuri and Victor were mounted on their horses, standing side by side as they lifted their faces to the sky. They were out on the open range with Chris and several other men from the Circle C, herding cows closer to the safety of the ranch buildings for calving. The afternoon had quickly passed, and it looked like the sun was approaching the rocky peaks in the west, though the only indication of this from behind the thick veil in front of it was the slowly deepening gloom.

“Looks like snow might be on the way, if it gets cold enough,” Victor observed as Chris drew up to them on his black-and-white paint horse.

“That ain’t no good for these here beeves,” said the Texan. “We’re gonna hafta keep a close eye on ’em. There’s been problems with a few already today – I’ll tell ya about it later, but fer now I think we better call it a day.”

“We haven’t herded them all back yet,” Yuuri said in concern. “What if they get caught out here in the snow?”

“You wanna try herdin’ in the dark? That’s a fancy trick that don’t interest me, Yuuri.”

“OK.” Victor gathered up Luchik’s reins. “Let’s all head back and just see how things go.”

This they did, visiting the cook shack and partaking of the usual uninspiring but filling fare there, along with coffee you could stand a spoon in. The ranch hands were settling into the bunkhouse for the night, and it looked to Yuuri like Victor and Chris had decided to kick off their boots and relax along with them. He himself felt like spending some time alone in the stable, easing into his favorite exercises; and so with a quick word to Victor left him in conversation with Chris, picked up a lantern, lit it, and went out into the dark. Fortunately Victor seemed to understand Yuuri’s need for these moments. The Circle C men had been herding cattle together all day, and the last thing he wanted right now was to have to sit in the crowded bunkhouse and force himself to make conversation, which he would have to do as the other men came and went on their own business or looked for a diversion to fill a bit of time before they went to sleep. It was times like this when Yuuri missed the privacy of his own room at his parents’ house.

By the light of his lantern on a nearby shelf, Yuuri stood on the wooden stool to reach the rings suspended from the rafter that ran across the ceiling, and then kicked the stool away. He’d found that this was the best exercise for when he wanted to unwind, and sometimes it felt like he was entering a trancelike state as he rotated and held different positions. Often he would shut his eyes and feel his way through the moves, knowing when it was time to shift by the burn that steadily grew in his muscles. He spent as much time on this tonight as his body could take, then warmed up on the balance beam before launching into his barre exercises.

He’d worked up a sweat, even though he was only wearing his pants and cotton pullover shirt, and felt pleasantly tired as he came back to himself mentally and considered returning to the bunkhouse. This was when he became aware of the draft that was blowing between the planks in the wall. He wasn’t standing anywhere near it, but he could feel the icy fingers creeping across the stable and chilling him where he was wet with perspiration. How could he not have noticed it before?

With a sinking heart, he went over to the wall and could now hear a faint whistling noise as the air practically hissed between the chinks. Chris had been right – this wouldn’t be good for the pregnant cows that were still out on the range, especially if any of them were to give birth tonight. But there was little that could be done in the dark, he supposed. Changing out of his flat-soled shoes back into his boots, and putting his winter outerwear on, Yuuri went to open the stable door – and was greeted by a whirling patch of while crystals, all his lantern would illuminate as it flickered even within the protective confines of its surrounding glass. He shoved the door shut and leaned back against it, staring at the dark inside of the stable. The horses snorted nervously but seemed otherwise all right. The question was, what would he do – spend the night out here? Or could he find his way back to the bunkhouse through the chaos outside? It wouldn’t be the first time he’d bedded down in some straw, but the idea of sleeping out here with the cold draft didn’t appeal. He’d been back and forth between here and the bunkhouse enough times that he might just be able to do it blindfolded – which was what the circumstances essentially required.

Taking a deep breath, Yuuri opened the stable door once again and quickly shut it behind him, then walked across the corral. The wind and snow stung his face, and his lantern illuminated little apart from the mass of white. Blizzards weren’t rare here in March, but he’d seldom experienced one of this ferocity.

He found the corral gate and let himself through, then walked down the path in the deepening snow toward the bunkhouse. It had clearly been falling long enough for a fair bit of it to accumulate, and nothing was left to indicate where the path actually was. Yuuri made his way more by instinct than by sight through the howling storm until the shape of the wooden building that was his destination finally materialized in front of him. Breathing a sigh of relief, he quickly stepped inside.

Looking forward to sitting in front of the stove for a while, he shook snow off of his coat, hat and gloves as he removed them, then blew his lantern out and paced it on a shelf with others near the door. Faces looked up at him quietly; the bunkhouse was packed, the men wishing to be nowhere but here to sit the weather out. There were only a few empty beds. Yuuri began to make his way to the other end of the room, but the hush was odd. Usually the building would be full of conversation, as well as the other noises of general habitation such as creaking bunks and shuffling boots and even coughing, at this time of night.

When Yuuri got far enough into the room to see that Victor’s bunk wasn’t occupied, he stopped and held his breath, his stomach doing a nauseating flip. He scanned the room, but all he saw was men either continuing to stare at him or looking at the floor. Swallowing in a dry throat, he saw that Chris was absent as well. “Where – ”

“Now Yuuri,” Walt said quietly as he got up from where he was sitting nearby and placing a placating hand on his shoulder. “C’mon over here and sit down.” Dazed, Yuuri allowed himself to be guided to his own bunk, where he dropped his outer wear in a heap on the floor and sat looking at his companion.

“What’s going on?” he asked the young man next to him. Walt continued to fix him with his deep brown eyes, but seemed to be struggling to find words.

“Jus’ listen to me, OK?” He continued to speak softly so that only Yuuri would hear. “A little while ago, some of the hands were worried enough about the cows out there in the storm that they decided to go out and check – ”

_“What?”_ Yuuri blurted, his heart suddenly racing. “Was Victor with them?”

Walt nodded and Yuuri’s eyes grew wide. “Yeah he went, along with a few others. Y’see, it weren’t snowin’ as much as it is now, and they thought they’d jus’ make a quick trip out there an’ see that everythin’ was all right.”

“But…when they came to get their horses from the stable, I would’ve noticed! That’s where I was!”

“Well…” Walt ran a hand around his red neckerchief nervously and continued to speak in the kind of voice that, to Yuuri’s irritation, sounded like it was meant to calm someone who was hysterical. “…y’see, some of the men had left their horses staked to the ground outside the bunkhouse. They would’ve had to go stable ’em anyway, with the snow getting’ bad an’ all, so they took those. I heard ’em say it was easier than goin’ out to the stables and gettin’ the other horses all saddled up.”

Yuuri grabbed the tops of both of his arms. “Hasn’t anyone gone out after them?” He was aware of more stares as he raised his voice, but he didn’t care.

Dave, a black-haired ranch hand in his thirties, walked over and looked down at him with sympathy in his eyes. “Look, Yuuri, I know how you feel – ”

“Do you?” Yuuri shot back, standing up to face him.

“ – but do you think all of us here would just sit around while our guys was stuck in a mess, if there was anything we could do to help?”

“Get your horses and go out there, goddamn it, before someone gets killed!” Yuuri shouted, gesturing along with his words. Dave took a step back as if he felt vaguely threatened. “What’s the matter with you all?” He spoke loudly enough to be heard by the entire room, and he glared at all of the faces that were turned his way. He thought they looked guilty and cowardly. “Fine – I’ll go out there myself if no one else is willing to come.” Bending over to grab his outer wear from the floor, he stepped away from his bunk – and was arrested by Dave and Walt, who had stood up and looked like he hated what he was doing. Two other men came toward them to stop Yuuri from going any further, though they didn’t touch him.

“Let me go!” Yuuri demanded, struggling against the two men restraining him. “Are you out of your minds?”

“No, but you sound as if you’ve lost yours,” Dave said. He gripped Yuuri firmly and gave him an intense stare with calm green eyes. “Now listen to me! If you – or anyone else – went out there, all that’d happen is you’d lose your way, and then we’re missing you as well as them other guys. How in Sam Hill would you know where you were going? How would you know where to look? It’s dark and there’s snow blowing everywhere. Not even the best tracker could find his way through that.” He continued to look at Yuuri, who was beginning to lose some of the fighting spirit that had filled him a moment ago. “We ain’t got no choice but to sit here and wait. You think we ain’t worried about our pards? Christ.” He shook his head and released Yuuri, and Walt copied him. The other two men who had joined them, apparently deciding that Yuuri was not going to try to attack or dash out of the bunkhouse, walked back to where they’d been sitting near one of the crates in the middle of the room.

With his eyes still wide and his face frozen, Yuuri dropped rather than sat back onto his bunk. Dave shuffled away after a quick backwards glance, and Walt sat down and patted Yuuri on the knee. “We’re all hopin’ they’ll come back soon. But like Dave said, all we can do is wait. Warm up over here an’ try to get some rest if you can, huh?” He gave Yuuri a shaky smile and went back to his own bunk.

“Victor,” Yuuri whispered to himself, feeling sick. He shifted on his bunk until his back was propped against the wall behind him; a draft blew through the chinks but he ignored it. He wrapped his arms around his knees and turned from the rest of the room to face the stove near the corner. Allowing his head to droop, he felt tears prick his eyes and slide down his cheeks, where they fell and dripped onto his blanket.

_I’m being a coward now too – aren’t I? Why did I let them stop me?_

_Because they were right,_ his brain said to his heart. _This isn’t like riding into the box canyon. That was a small walled-in area, so it would be hard to get too lost in there; and despite the smoke, there was daylight too. This is different. What good would it be to Victor or Chris or any of the others if I got lost and maybe even died?_

_Maybe even died._ What if Victor…

A subdued wail escaped Yuuri and he wrapped his arms around himself as tightly as he could. _No. I couldn’t bear it. Please, god, please…let them be OK._

***

The hours passed, blurring one into the other, and soon Yuuri didn’t know whether he was asleep or awake. He was aware at some point of donning his vest when his back had gotten numb from the cold air whispering through the planks behind him. He heard the crackling of logs inside the stove as they burned down, the coughs and snores of the other men, the ceaseless howling of the gale outside. But at other times he thought he’d caught a glimpse of Victor’s face, or heard his voice on the wind calling to him in that excited, boyish tone he sometimes used when he wanted to show Yuuri something – though other times it sounded like a cry for help out of the desolate snow and ice of the endless night. Yuuri would jerk his eyelids open and it would stop; and he would sit propped against the wall for another stretch of time, glancing at the door in the fading hope that it would open any minute, or looking over at Victor’s empty bunk. It felt like the cold had pulled him open and crawled inside him, numbing him until all he could do was stare with half-open lids at the feet of the man sleeping across from him, which still wore boots.

He was halfway through smoking a quirly when he heard low voices coming from several bunks to his right. A couple of the men were having a conversation, though he had no idea what the time was. They were speaking so quietly that it took some concentration to make out their words.

“…stupid to go out like that in the first place…”

“I don’t s’pose they thought the snow would turn into a blizzard.”

“…then that fuckin’ Jap goin’ crazy on us when he come in – that’s all we needed.”

Yuuri took a drag of his cigarette but was otherwise impassive. This wasn’t anything new to him, though for the most part the men here had continued to be friendly and respectful – at least to his face.

There was a silence, and then the first voice spoke again: “They took my goddamn horse too – and Luke’s. What am I s’posed to do without a horse if they don’t come back?”

“Well if that’s what you’re worried about, we’ll get you both a mustang. Jesus H. Christ, you’re more worried about some goddamn hosses than human bein’s caught out in a blizzard. You better get yourself some perspective, friend.”

No more was spoken after this. Yuuri finished his cigarette and crushed the butt out in the little copper tray he kept near his bunk for the purpose. Then he sat back on his bunk and closed his eyes, but his stomach seemed to be pooling all of his emotions, and he couldn’t bring himself to cease the informal vigil he was keeping and lie down.

After another stretch of time that could have been minutes or hours, a shadow approached Yuuri. The bunkhouse was usually as black as the night outside unless someone lit a lantern, and he realized the faintest touch of gray was beginning to seep through the windows. He recognized the man standing next to him as Dave.

“Look, Yuuri,” he said quietly, “I know how tight you and Victor are. So, um…a few of us have been talking about mounting a search team soon when it gets lighter outside. Thought you might wanna come along.”

Yuuri felt like he was emerging from underwater. He nodded and thanked him, then stirred himself to put his boots on and tidy the rumpled, unbuttoned clothes he was wearing. When a problem presented itself, it was his habit to deal with it by acting. Sitting, waiting, and hoping throughout the night had not felt natural to him at all, and he’d found himself fighting off waves of despair more than once. Finally he could attempt to _do_ something.

When he was ready, he joined the small group of men who were standing near the stove. Apparently the storm had passed in the night, and it was only now that Yuuri registered the quiet that had descended upon the land, replacing the gales that had gone to blow their fury elsewhere. There was about a foot and a half of snow outside, but the visibility was good, and once they got their horses they should be able to ride to the range, spread out in a pattern, and begin a thorough search.

They were discussing the finer details of this plan when the bunkhouse door opened and Chris appeared, whistling as he removed his sheepskin hat. “Howdy, y’all. Feels like I ain’t seen ya in a month of Sundays. Sho’ is nice to be in the warm agin.”

As he entered the room, removing his outer wear, he was followed by Victor and the two other ranch hands who had been missing. They looked weary, but otherwise none the worse for wear. The bunkhouse immediately sprang to life, the men running up to them and patting and mock-punching them, telling them how glad they were they’d made it back, demanding details of everything that had happened. The group with Dave and Yuuri, being at the far end of the room, simply stood and stared as the crowd gathered and then dispersed, the four refugees of the storm going in different directions, each to tell his tale to eager ears.

Yuuri’s heart leaped when he saw who had come through the door, and tears pricked at his eyes again, this time in sheer relief. He felt like a puppet whose strings had been cut, and for a moment all he wanted to do was collapse to the floor, the recent hours of tension draining out of him into the ground. He beamed through his tears as Victor joined them, and listened in horror and fascination as he related what had happened.

They had never even found the cows – which should be tended to as soon as possible that morning, he added – but had soon been caught and hopelessly lost in the intensifying storm. Deciding that it would be impossible to find the bunkhouse while it was raging, they had attempted to pitch tents; two of them had brought them on their horses. This they managed to do, though one of them blew over in the night, and so the four of them spent the rest of their sleepless hours huddled together for warmth in their one remaining tent. Ironically, that tent was Chris’s – as the man himself was in the process of explaining to his own audience: the Texan who had never even seen a flake of snow until he’d arrived in Wyoming. This morning, as soon as it was light, they had returned to the ranch and stabled the horses. Dave and the others expressed their relief that no one had come to any harm, and left Victor in peace as they went back to their bunks or headed to the cook shack.

Yuuri remained, looking at Victor with red eyes. He had yet to say anything. Suddenly he lunged forward and clung to Victor, burying his face in the crook of his neck. The tan duster coat was soft with the sheep’s wool underneath it, and this time instead of rose-scented soap there was just the natural smell of sweat and of Victor, which was somehow even better. Victor sighed and clasped Yuuri in return, tilting his head so that his jaw brushed against Yuuri’s temple. Neither spoke for a moment. Then they both drew back and looked at each other.

“Victor, I…I can’t tell you how glad I am you’re OK. I thought…”

Victor brushed a cold finger playfully over Yuuri’s cheek. “You think I’d let a little thing like a blizzard stop me from coming back here to…to the bunkhouse?” A crooked smile flashed across his face. “Well. That’s warmed me up some, but I wouldn’t mind sitting next to the stove for a while. Even Russians get tired of being cold sometimes.”

Yuuri nodded silently, and they both sat down on his bunk, holding their hands out toward the stove. “I feel stupid for being so caught up in what I was doing out in the stable that I didn’t even realize the weather had taken a turn for the worse,” Yuuri said. “I should’ve been here in the bunkhouse with you and Chris, talking about how to tend the cows and going out there with you.”

“And gotten lost and stuck in the blizzard along with us?” Victor raised an eyebrow. “For once, I’m glad you weren’t there. It wasn’t any fun, believe me.”

“I’m sure. I just…I don’t know, I guess I get lost inside my head sometimes. That’s what Phichit says. And then I came back over here and found out you all had gone, and I was so worried. I wanted to go look for you, but they wouldn’t let me.”

“That would have been a foolish thing to try,” Victor replied sternly.

“I know.” He paused. “It was just hard. I…don’t want to lose you, Victor.”

Victor turned toward him, then took his hand and laced their fingers together. “You won’t,” he said softly, his blue eyes holding Yuuri’s.

“I don’t know about y’all,” came a drawling voice from behind them, “but I can’t decide between hittin’ my bunk for a few hours or raidin’ the cook shack. Anyone for a gallon of Arbuckle’s? That might just keep us awake for awhile yet.”


	15. Chapter 15

The snows quickly melted away, leaving no trace of the violence that had spawned them, and the first rains of the year had arrived on a couple of occasions. The river was swollen with meltwater, and the chill was gradually relenting, creeping back to shadowed refuges high in the mountains where it would settle and bide its time until the spring and summer passed.

Yuuri allowed himself to be persuaded one Saturday night to accompany Victor, Chris and a handful of other men to the Wagon Wheel. It was an uninspiring night, however, featuring bland chatter that Yuuri mostly tuned out, which was more than could be said for the poor piano-playing in the background. The blizzard was a few weeks in the past now, and only so much gossip and conjecture could be wrung from it. Yuuri found himself wishing he was at the stable, exercising or riding Biscuit, or even talking or doing something else with Victor without the surrounding audience.

His senses were suddenly on the alert, however, when he looked up and noticed that Victor, who had gone to the bar to buy a round of drinks, was conversing there with a Native American wearing a mixture of western wear and traditional clothing. Yuuri’s stomach sank with foreboding; this was unlikely to end well, he thought. And sure enough, a few minutes later there were shouts from the crowd that ‘his kind’ weren’t allowed inside the saloon, and the barkeep had better kick him out before they did it for him. Victor gently took the man’s arm and steered him out of the saloon; Yuuri could see them continuing their conversation just outside the doors.

“I wonder what that was all about,” Chris mused. He was sitting beside Yuuri at their table, an empty beer mug resting in a puddle of condensation in front of him.

Yuuri just shrugged and shook his head, but inside he was full of curiosity. The cowboys, ranchers and townsfolk here had few dealings with the Native Americans, who they generally met for trade or to ensure that the peace was not under threat. Most of them had been shunted onto reservations in recent years that were policed by the US army.

Victor returned after a while with a tray of drinks, which he passed around the table to the ranch hands. He’d gotten himself and Yuuri mule skinners. With a mischievous grin, he sat down next to Yuuri and sipped his with relish.

“OK, Victor, spill the beans,” Chris said. “What’s goin’ on?”

“That was Kimama,” he answered. “A Shoshone. They come in sometimes to trade for Lennie’s whiskey, and he’s happy to do it, so long as no one objects.” A frown suddenly clouded his features.

“Right or wrong, y’know it’s the law here,” Chris said.

“Well anyway, the Shoshone are excellent horsemen. Kimama has offered to come to the ranch tomorrow and spend the afternoon showing me how to ride bareback.” He gave Yuuri a cat-that-got-the-cream smile. “Want to come along?”

Yuuri looked back at him with wide eyes. “You really do like surprising people.”

He waggled his eyebrows. “Well?”

“Victor, what’s this all about?” Chris asked, taking a glug of his beer. “What kinda use would that be to either of yuh?”

“Are you always going to have your saddle to hand when you need it? Hm? It’s quicker just to hop up and get moving, isn’t it? Besides,” he added after a sip of his drink, “bareback riding is the ultimate way to communicate with your horse. I’ve never tried it before because of all the trick riding I do that requires my saddle, or I’ve got a length of rope I need to loop around something, or I’ve got things for Luchik to carry on his back. But it’s past time I learned how, and it seems I’ve found a willing teacher.”

Yuuri was grinning at him, his own excitement growing, but Chris just shook his head in bemusement. “You get up to some odd shenanigans sometimes, pard.” He waved a finger at Yuuri. “Both of yuhz. When you could be restin’ on yer day off before another week of hard work. Suit yerselves, though.” He shrugged as if to say _There’s no talking sense into some people, but at least it’s no skin off my back_ , and returned to his beer.           

***

True to his word, Kimama arrived at the Circle C the following day shortly after noon. He wore a long-sleeved white shirt and leather vest, with leather pants, moccasins, a colorful swatch of cloth embroidered with zigzags and crosses that was draped over his front like an apron, and a striking bone breastplate in two sections that were strung together down the middle and adorned with shells. His hair, unplaited, fell loosely in two hanks that were tied two thirds of the way down their length, and two feathers poked up from behind his head. He sat bareback astride a chestnut stallion, and carried a spear. As Yuuri greeted him along with Victor on their horses underneath the ranch’s wooden sign and accompanied him to the corral, he was struck by their strange but compelling colleague, and had to remind himself not to stare.

Kimama was a taciturn man, but when he spoke it was in good English; and he eventually warmed to them both when he realized they were eager to learn everything he could teach them. He showed them different ways of mounting their horses from the ground, how to distribute their weight differently when they weren’t sitting back in a saddle, how to avoid gripping the horse’s body too much with their legs, various techniques for maintaining or regaining their balance, and other things that Yuuri made mental notes of. They all rode together in the corral, trying out different gaits. Kimama looked both fearsome and graceful, particularly while wielding his spear, and Yuuri and Victor were happy to take their part as an audience while he demonstrated for them. By the end of the afternoon, the Shoshone went on his way seemingly contented with his haul of cooking utensils, food and whiskey.

“I hope you didn’t give him anything we’ll miss,” Yuuri said after they had escorted him out. They were sitting on their horses, bareback, underneath the wooden Circle C sign.

 “If I did, I’d say he probably needs it more than we do,” Victor answered. He looked at Yuuri. “So, what did you think?”

“It was amazing.” He had quickly discovered that he loved the streamlined feel of the horse’s body and moving muscles underneath him, and wondered why he had never considered riding this way himself until now.

“There are a lot of things people could learn from the natives here, if they wanted to listen,” Victor added with a thoughtful expression.

“I know what you mean. Instead they kick them out of saloons.”

“Well, this has given me some interesting ideas, anyway. You could almost say I feel inspired.”

“Wow,” Yuuri laughed.

Victor gazed out at the mountains. The sun was beginning to peek out from behind a cottonball cloud, and a light breeze was blowing across the range. “You know, we’ve got some time before we have to head back for dinner. Would you like to…take a ride with me? See what it’s like going bareback out there?”

A smile curled at the corners of Yuuri’s mouth. “That sounds like fun.”

With that, they took off, veering away from the road and onto the yellow scrub that covered the gently rolling plains this side of the mountains in April. Soon their horses were moving at a smooth gallop. They rode side by side, though Yuuri knew Victor was keeping Luchik in check; he was easily the fastest horse on the ranch. Biscuit’s back and rump were moving rhythmically, and Yuuri felt more than ever like an extension of that rhythm, adjusting his body along with it as if the two of them were parts of the same machine. The wind caressed them, and the sun beamed down as it freed itself from the concealing cloud. Yuuri let out a laugh; and when he looked over at Victor, he saw bright eyes that reflected the joy in his own. 

***

“You’re going to do _what_?”

Yuuri was leaning on the corral fence looking in; as usual, he had gotten up later than Victor, and by the time he’d eaten and left the cook shack, Victor was already busy around the stable. This time he had Luchik out without a saddle and had been riding him at a leisurely pace around the corral, warming him up. Instead of letting himself through the gate, Yuuri had simply paused to watch what Victor was doing. Though it was a warm day for April, there was still a tangible chill in the air; but it didn’t seem to bother Victor, who was wearing a white short-sleeved shirt that clung to his chest, and his slip-on shoes. He’d taken his hat off, and his bangs flopped over his face as Luchik trotted. Yuuri had his blue flannel shirt, on as well as his gray coat and black Stetson. He tipped the brim up to get a wider view of the scene in front of him.

Victor brought Luchik to a halt in front of him. “I’m going to completely change what I’m doing for the rodeo,” he said simply.

“But that’s a month away!”

“It is. I’ll just have to work hard, won’t I?”

Yuuri peered up at his calm face and couldn’t believe what he was hearing. There was no arrogance in Victor’s voice or expression; simply a deep-seated belief in his ability to accomplish what he was setting out to do.

“How can you just scrap everything you’re been practicing for months?”

“Yuuri. I’ve been executing these moves for _years_ , not just months. Most of what you see me do here is just to make sure that I keep up with it and don’t get rusty. Without my colleagues from Yakov’s ranch in Russia to inspire me, it’s hard to think of anything new. The same old thing becomes dull for me and everyone who watches me after a while.”

“It’s never been dull for me.”

Victor laughed. “Given enough time, you might change your mind.”

 _I doubt that._ Yuuri decided to change tack. “You mentioned being inspired. Kimama inspired you with some ideas, you said. Is that where this is coming from?”

A broad smile brightened Victor’s face. “Ah, you guessed it.”

“So…this has got something to do with bareback riding?”

“Yes. Well, I think so. I’m going to find out first today whether it’s actually possible. I’m pretty sure it is, so I’ll practice after that.”

“Show me.”

“OK.” He urged Luchik into a gentle trot, a look of concentration etched on his face. In a fluid series of moves, he planted both palms next to where he was sitting, pointed his legs together in the air so that his body made a V-shape, then rocked forward at the same time as he straightened his body and placed his feet on Luchik’s back. Next he made a little jump backward so that he was standing where the rear of the saddle would ordinarily be – on the back of his moving horse, with nothing to support him. He extended his arms to either side, using them to balance. Delight and uncertainty appeared to chase each other across his face as he stood while Luchik continued to trot.

Yuuri gasped at the skill he was witnessing – he was sure that if Victor had tried this before, it couldn’t have been many times – and felt once again like a twelve-year-old boy cheering on his hero. He continued to watch, transfixed, as Victor knelt down with one shin on Luchik’s back and the foot of his other leg resting next to it, still holding his arms extended outward. He seemed to consider for a moment, then quickly switched the position of his legs so that the opposite one was resting on Luchik’s back while the other was propped up, and did this several times; it reminded Yuuri of someone pedalling a bicycle. He saw Victor smile as if he was pleased with what he was doing.

“That’s incredible!” Yuuri shouted, laughing and shaking his head.

Seemingly encouraged by the praise, Victor carefully stood up again, then jumped in the air and did a half-turn to land facing backward. Again he did this several times, always with his arms extended. Once he was facing forward again, he lifted a foot out to the side, gingerly at first. Appearing to gain confidence, he brought it back in, then lifted his leg in front of him so that his knee was at waist level, his toes pointed downward, and at the same time he arced his back slightly and struck a graceful pose. Yuuri goggled at him. But then something shifted slightly in Victor’s balance and he ended up jumping down off Luchik. With a swift command, the horse came to a halt.

“I think that went well for a start,” he said. “Until now, at least.”

“Were you making that up as you went along?”

Victor just shrugged and looked at him.

“I take back what I said. The audience at the rodeo will _love_ this.”

Yuuri watched him try out a few more maneuvers, clearly intending to find out what would work for him and what wouldn’t. There were a few unplanned leaps off of Luchik and some falls, but nothing serious. Yuuri thought that if he’d gone straight out and tried these things himself, he’d be in the hospital by now with just about every bone in his body broken.

All too soon, it seemed, Victor decided to finish for the morning. “Would you like to get Biscuit out and do some riding yourself?” he invited Yuuri.

“Nothing I can do will match that.”

Victor gave him a small smile. “It’s not a competition. Go ahead – I’ll help where I can.”

As Victor stabled Luchik, Yuuri got Biscuit out and warmed her up around the corral. He’d removed his hat and outerwear, though his flannel shirt was keeping him warm enough. When Victor reappeared, he got Yuuri to slow Biscuit down to a walk so that he could help him position his body to better hold his balance and strike an aesthetically pleasing pose. Unable to see for himself how he looked while he did this, Yuuri was grateful for the assistance, though he also found himself distracted by Victor’s long fingers as they seemed to linger on his arms or legs where he was gently moving them. When Victor slipped those roving fingers under his chin to tilt it backward slightly, Yuuri let out a small gasp and felt a tingle travel down his spine. Mentally filing all of this for later, he made himself focus on what he was doing. At the moment it was riding at Luchik’s side with the aim of being able to reach so far down that he could pick something up off of the ground, which he thought would be an entertaining trick for an audience. He had a half-formed notion that he could perform the tricks he’d learned for someone at a time when he knew enough of them and felt more confident.

“I think you’re just about there,” Victor said, stepping away. “Your fingertips brushed the ground just then. Why don’t you speed Biscuit up a little and see if you can pick something up. What do you suggest?”

“Um…how about a bandanna?” He was sitting up on biscuit again as she walked. Untying his own blue one, he tossed it on the ground. Then he got Biscuit to speed up, and attempted what Victor had just been showing him – but his foot slipped out of the strap and he tumbled to the ground with a small cry as his left leg landed at an awkward angle. He called Biscuit to a halt.

“Are you OK?” Victor asked, jogging toward him.

Yuuri gave him a rueful smile. “I thought I was doing better than that. Stupid of me.”

Victor held out a hand and helped Yuuri to his feet. “It happens. Sometimes a lot, when you try something new. Why don’t you have another shot at it?”

In the end, after a few more tries, Yuuri managed to dip to the side of Biscuit and pick up the bandanna from the ground. Victor had him practice it two more times, and he succeeded again, feeling a flush of pleasure. “At this rate, I’ll stop being covered in bruises from falling off,” he laughed.

“You’re not falling as much as you used to, you know. You’ve come a long way with this in just a few months. And you’re so graceful with it, Yuuri. The way you move your arms and hands, your legs…I know I’ve said this before, but it’s a shame we can’t set it to music.”

Yuuri just looked down, trying to stifle the inevitable blush.

“Tell you what,” Victor said, taking up Luchik’s reins, “why don’t we finish up here, grab some lunch, and then go out to the river to wash?”

“Isn’t it cold for that still? Must be in the fifties out here.”

“Not if you’re – ”

“Russian.” Yuuri smirked. “I know. But I’m not.” He paused. “Well, OK. I’ve got things I need to wash myself. But I’m reserving the best place near the bunkhouse stove when we’re done.”

***

 _It’s too cold for this_ , Yuuri thought as he staked Biscuit out and dismounted, pulling his leather bag from the back of his saddle. Victor fussed over Luchik for a moment, telling him to eat his fill of the lovely nutritious grass here next to the river, then copied Yuuri.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more well-kept horse than that,” Yuuri said with a grin as he pulled his dirty clothes out of his bag. He’d been washing them in a basin or under the pump at the ranch for the past several months, though doing it in the river was easier, and got them cleaner – as long as the weather was conducive. If he hadn’t been with Victor, he wouldn’t have decided that it was. The sun was shining, but the water was still cold with snowmelt. He pulled out his castile soap, which was hard, olive oil-based and unscented – the same as he used on his body – and knelt by the water, rolled up his shirt sleeves, and began to scrub. He figured his fingers would be numb before long.

“Keep your horse well and he looks after you well,” Victor replied, kneeling next to Yuuri and pulling out a shirt of his own to scrub.

“I know that all right,” Yuuri agreed.

“A lot of cowboys just feed their horses hay and chaff, even if they’re working them hard. It’s a good thing they usually get a better mix in a livery, if nowhere else. One of the first things I did when I got here to the Circle C was make sure that Abe was buying high-energy foods like oats, peas and beans, too. That’s a happy bunch of animals out in the stable now.”

Yuuri smiled. “Yeah, you take good care of them. And those mustangs. I’ve learned a lot here already.”

They continued for some time, washing their clothes while they chatted, and Yuuri decided that he was enjoying himself despite having very cold hands. But when they were done, Victor suggested they take a dip in the river themselves to have a wash, and Yuuri wasn’t sure he liked the idea. “Well it’s nice being clean, but I can’t say I’m going to want to stay in there very long.” Just the thought of it made him shudder.

“It’s up to you, of course,” Victor said, stripping as nonchalantly as if he were checking the time of day, and draping his dry clothes over Luchik’s saddle. “But I’m going in.” He pulled a small leather bag out of his saddlebag and, carrying it, waded into the water.

Yuuri knew he would eventually find himself in this moment, but had avoided thinking about it since the first time he’d discovered Victor bathing in the trough outside. He wanted – expected – it to feel no different from when he’d done this kind of thing with Phichit or other ranch hands. The way he was compelled to watch Victor as he’d walked over to the riverbank and waded into the water was, he decided, similar to the reason why he struggled to look away when he was riding Luchik or performing gymnastics: because it was an extraordinary vision. Yuuri had seen works of art in school textbooks, and he’d been lucky to be able to visit museums when he’d been to big cities like Chicago – and Victor could take up residence in one, he thought. He wondered what Michelangelo might have done with a model like this.

Swallowing, he realized he was staring, though fortunately Victor had his back to him as he continued to wade in. Feeling a touch of shame at his behavior, Yuuri nevertheless carried on watching him, admiring the way Victor’s muscles moved, from his shoulders, his ass, and down to his thighs, until he was waist-deep in the water. Pink tinged Yuuri’s cheeks. _What am I doing? That was rude, even if he didn’t know._

He looked away as Victor began splashing water over himself, which sparkled in the sunlight. Yuuri quickly stripped his own clothes off, grabbed his bar of soap, and self-consciously waded into the water a good distance from Victor, then turned away so that he couldn’t see him, and began soaping himself. He’d make fast work of this, he decided, especially since the water was uncomfortably cold.

Just as he was finishing, he turned around and saw that Victor was wading toward the riverbank, stopping at a little alcove where the grassy earth overhung the water like a shelf, with some tree roots protruding from it. He took a blue glass bottle from his leather bag and then tossed the bag gently onto the shelf. Glancing up at Yuuri, he tilted his head in an invitation to join him. Yuuri’s stomach did an uncomfortable flip, but he decided he was curious, and didn’t want to offend Victor by simply leaving the river without acknowledging him.

“What’s that?” Yuuri asked as he walked up to him, shivering as the breeze blew against his wet skin. They were both still waist-deep in the river, which was trickling past with a gentle caress that Yuuri normally enjoyed but was now too numb to appreciate.

“A potion I make that’s good for your hair. You’ve discovered my weakness, I’m afraid – I’m rather fond of soaps and creams and that kind of thing. Maybe having one indulgence isn’t too bad.”

“What’s in it?” Yuuri eyed the bottle.

“You’re supposed to use it after you’ve cleaned your hair. Have you done yours?”

“Uh, no, I only rinsed it.”

“You’ve still got your soap, so why don’t we do that, and I’ll let you have a little of my hair tonic if you want to try it.”

Yuuri blinked. “OK.”

Victor put the bottle down on the ground for the time being. Then, facing Yuuri, he took the bar of soap from his hands and worked up a rich lather. He handed the soap back to Yuuri, who did the same, then placed it on the earthen shelf.

“May I?” Victor asked, raising his hands toward Yuuri’s head.

Oh. He hadn’t expected this. “Um…OK.”

Victor’s touch was gentle as he worked the soap into Yuuri’s hair from the roots up, being careful not to let any get in his eyes. Feeling a little dazed, Yuuri remembered that he’d lathered his own hands, and began to work the foam into Victor’s wet hair. Victor leaned down slightly so that Yuuri had easier access. Yuuri had never done anything like this to anybody, and the last time he could remember someone doing it to him was his Japanese mother when he was very young. He thought she’d cradled his head over some kind of basin. There was the ghost of a friendly grin on Victor’s face, and Yuuri knew he would let him draw back any time he wanted, but to his surprise he found that he didn’t. There was no threat in these actions, and they felt both natural and intimate, like something two people who were close would do to care for each other.

Cowboys were used to such things, he knew, spending long hours together in lonely places, relying on each other – sometimes putting their lives in each other’s hands. Though Yuuri couldn’t remember ever seeing two of them washing each other’s hair the way he was doing now. What was more, he had the feeling this wasn’t the simple act it appeared to be. He was running his hands through Victor’s hair, standing close, their faces inches from each other’s. Nude in a river, both of them. It would be so easy just to lean forward and…

Yuuri spluttered and took a little leap back. Victor looked at him in surprise. “Water in my eyes,” he said, then fully submerged himself in the river, feeling the chill from it all over again. Combing his hands through his hair to wash the soap out, he slicked it back from his forehead as he stood. Victor was rinsing his as well.

“I’m sorry, Yuuri – I was trying not to let that happen.”

“It’s OK,” Yuuri breathed, wanting to be finished with this now. “Uh, so what’s in the blue bottle?”

Victor picked it up from the earthen overhang, pulling out a cork in the process. “Diluted cider vinegar and rosemary tea.”

“What?”

“I know it sounds like an odd mixture, but it really does work.” He poured a little over his head, put the bottle down, and worked the liquid into his hair. “Would you like to try it?”

Since they appeared to be doing their own hair now, Yuuri nodded and took the bottle, copying Victor. A pungent, earthy smell of apples and herbs surrounded him. Where had Victor learned things like this? he wondered. Many cowboys he’d met didn’t mind not bathing for weeks, let alone pouring concoctions like this into their hair. But he had to admit it was kind of nice.

“Thanks,” he said, handing the bottle back. Victor replaced the stopper, put the bottle into his leather bag, and then rinsed his hair one last time in the river; Yuuri did the same. The strands felt slippery, and a slight aroma from the tonic still clung to them.

“I suppose we’d better get dry and get back to the ranch for some dinner,” Victor said, pulling himself up onto the riverbank.

Yuuri jerked his head away; he refused to continue to be a voyeur, instead making his way up the bank without a glance at Victor, drying himself off with the towel he’d brought, and pulling his clothes back on. He knew there were things that had happened today that he ought to go and think about; things that had taken him by surprise and threatened to change – in what ways, he wasn’t sure – the nature of his relationship with Victor. He felt a bubble of confusion and even trepidation building up inside of him.

Which was why, after a dinner of four-alarm chilli and kidney beans that did nothing for the tension in his stomach, Yuuri found himself alone in the stable that night, exercising on the rings to the light of a lantern. Ostensibly this had been for the purpose of thinking through whatever issues were now hanging over him; but the familiar, reassuring trancelike state had descended upon him, and he gave in to it willingly.

He also found himself putting in long hours over the next several days while the cows were busy calving, and it was easy to lose himself in his work. Most things were easier, in fact, than confronting the nameless feelings and fears that shifted around inside of him like shadows hiding from the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the scene with Victor and Yuuri galloping bareback across the open range with the mountains in the distance, I like to think of this as a sort of sweeping cinematic accompaniment: ‘Patrick Doyle – [St. Crispin’s Day/The Battle of Agincourt (Full)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a-dR8HD45qs) from 2:28–4:32.


	16. Chapter 16

“These here beeves is strayin’ all over the goddamn place,” Chris complained as he rode up to Victor and Yuuri. Many of the ranch hands were out on the range early that morning, cutting out heavies – separating pregnant calves from the herd to put them in a smaller field adjacent to the calving shed. Each cow had to be cut out individually by a mounted cowboy, and many of them were determined today to try to get back to the herd before they were shifted very far. Lassoing them was a delicate process, as the men did not want to stress the cows and force them into labor before they were ready.

“I guess we’d better split up,” Victor said. “Chris, why don’t you go back to the ranch and get some more hands to come out here and help us out. Looks like we could use it.”

“Sho’ nuff,” he agreed, nodding and riding off.

“Maybe I’d better head up that hill just behind us – I thought I saw a cow going up it a minute ago,” Yuuri offered. “It never rains but it pours, eh?” he said in allusion to the fact that so many of the cattle were giving birth at the same time.

Victor smiled. “I’ll see you in a little while.”

Yuuri urged Biscuit upward, and soon spotted the heavily pregnant cow he was after. He lassoed her before she could react, but thankfully she was in no mood to put up a fight and more or less ignored the rope now hanging around her, preferring instead to munch on the patch of grass she’d found.

“You critters sure are fickle today,” he muttered. He decided that it would be best to pull her along with him back down the hill, despite her liking for the pasture up here; but before he moved, he glanced down to get an idea of where the cows and men were and what was happening. His eyes didn’t get any further than Victor, who was about thirty yards away at the bottom of the hill, sitting upright and stationary on Luchik. It was a perfect side-on view, with Victor looking out from under the brim of his Stetson into the distance, reins held loosely in one hand, lasso at the ready in the other. A cottonwood tree laden with white blossoms stood not far behind him. The whole scene was silhouetted by the coppery rays of the morning sun. Yuuri thought he’d never seen anything so beautiful.

Then Victor shifted slightly and looked around, his eyes eventually moving up the hill and spotting Yuuri. He took his hat off and waved it, giving him a friendly smile. Yuuri waved back, and continued to watch as Luchik nudged ahead and Victor scanned the area, presumably for more strays. With his hat still resting in his lap, his platinum-blond hair reflected the sun’s glow. Then he spotted something that caught his attention and, shoving his Stetson back on, he was soon flying in a gallop across the range.

Something about the ordinariness of it all – Victor riding his horse across the open range with his usual grace and sureness – painted with the light of a spring morning, struck Yuuri deeply in a way that nothing else had. He continued to watch as Victor’s lasso circled in the air and he caught a cow that had been attempting to run back to the main herd. Victor eased along with the animal as she slowed to a halt, then gave a pull on the rope and began to guide her back in the direction she’d come from.

How could he make such a routine task look so well choreographed, like a dance? Victor, Luchik and the cow he’d roped were silhouettes glowing on one side with flecks of gold as they glided across the range. Yuuri had the odd urge to reach out and touch them, despite the distance between them. He felt his heart swell and flutter, and his breath hitched. Before he knew what was happening, images came unbidden to his mind. Of being at the stable to meet Victor as he returned on Luchik. Extending a hand and eagerly helping Victor off his horse. Yanking Victor’s hat off and flinging it aside, then pulling him into a crushing embrace and pressing their lips together, exploring each other’s mouths…Yuuri finding himself pinned by Victor against the stable wall…Victor drawing Yuuri’s swollen cock out, stroking it with those long fingers, while smearing kisses across Yuuri’s jaw and neck…Both of them gasping and moaning with desire… _Yes, please, Victor…_

Yuuri’s breath puffed out, and a pulse of heat that went straight to his groin made him tremble. “Oh my god,” he breathed, coming back to himself as he grabbed Biscuit’s mane to keep his balance. “Th-this isn’t happening. This _can’t_ be happening.” He shifted in his saddle, his seat suddenly uncomfortable. His pulse raced.

How would Victor react if he knew what he had been thinking about just now? How would anyone? Yuuri had never in his life contemplated doing anything sexual with another man. It was taboo, forbidden – by the Bible, for one thing, as well as all the people who followed it. It didn’t matter that the Bible said other things that people ignored. It didn’t matter that, although his thoughts had never consciously traveled along these lines until now, Yuuri was pretty sure that the gender of two people who were drawn to each other in that way didn’t make much difference to him, in principle. The fact was that he had grown up in this culture that had taught him to feel shame about such things, and he felt it now, and inwardly cringed at the thought of Victor feeling it too if he found out what was going through Yuuri’s mind.

The situation became even more complicated, however, when Yuuri considered how he actually _felt_ about Victor. Those feelings had been powerful from the moment they’d met, there was no denying it; but could their nature be quantified or labelled? Yuuri took a deep breath and watched the cow he’d roped continue to chew the grass contentedly; Biscuit had lowered her head to do the same. He’d never forced himself to contemplate these things before, and it felt like they were hitting him all at once. Who _was_ Victor to him? Someone he admired and was inspired by? A teacher? A friend? Something else? Since the night Victor had disappeared in the blizzard, there was one certainty at least: Victor was someone he wanted to hold on to and not let go of. He’d never felt that way about anyone before, but he still wasn’t sure what exactly it meant. It had always felt positive, though. That was, as long as he didn’t do something stupid to spoil everything.

“Come on, guys – I think you’ve had enough for now,” Yuuri said to the animals, gently pulling Biscuit’s head up with a tug on her reins.

Wherever these bizarre…fantasies were coming from, he told himself, they needed to go back there and leave him in peace. 

***

“Definitely not,” Victor said, riding up to Yuuri with mock chastisement in his voice. He was in the corral, bareback on Luchik at some ridiculously early hour of the morning, and Yuuri had been passing by on his way to the cook shack. He’d seen Victor riding and stopped at the fence to watch.

“What do you mean?” Yuuri asked innocently.

“You know what I mean. You’re not supposed to be watching me practice. It’s only three days ’til the rodeo, and you promised.”

Yuuri sighed and made a show of rolling his eyes. “A little peek can’t hurt, can it? Victor, I’m so curious – why does this have to be a secret?”

“If you watch me now, you won’t be seeing anything new on Sunday. Wouldn’t it be nice for the performance to be a surprise?”

“I guess so,” Yuuri conceded, though to be honest he wasn’t that worried about whether it would be a surprise or not. He loved standing here and watching Victor on Luchik.

With a renewed promise that he would allow Victor to practice and not spy on him, Yuuri went to the cook shack and had the customary bacon and eggs, with bonus bits of shell in his coffee. At least he could take his time; calving season was finally winding down, and there was no longer any need to be on the range at the crack of dawn, helping to birth calves that were coming out feet first or carrying slimy newborns on the front of his saddle that had been neglected by their mothers. He’d never been so involved with these activities at the Rafter T, and he was looking forward to settling back into his usual routine; though now that it was May, that could be disrupted at any time by whatever mother nature wanted to throw at them, be it a heatwave or a late-season blizzard. There was never any knowing until it was almost upon you, though sometimes you could spend a few minutes watching it roll in from the mountains.

“You still plannin’ on comin’ to the rodeo on Sunday?” Chris asked Yuuri, sitting down next to him on a log. He was sipping coffee from a tin mug. Yuuri had just finished his and tipped out the grounds and eggshells.

“I’ve been looking forward to it for months. Walt said he wants to come too. I haven’t been in a few years, so I’ve never seen Victor perform there.”

Chris smiled and sipped his coffee, making a small grimace – at the strength of the liquid or the solid contents floating around in it, Yuuri wasn’t sure. “Well, ain’t no one around who can even come close to him. He won last year, sho’ nuff. I doubt if anyone’ll give him a run for his money this year either, but it’ll be fun to see what he does. You been watchin’ him?”

“He won’t let me see what he’s doing. Says he wants it to be a surprise.”

“Hmm. Welp, I’m lookin’ forward to it too. Say, I’ve had word goin’ back an’ forth between here and the Rafter T. Zach’s gonna meet us at the fairground, an’ your friend Phichit. He says why aintcha been over to see him in a while, by the way.”

“Ah.” Yuuri looked down. “Thanks.”

“Sho’ thang.” He gave Yuuri a pat on the shoulder. “See ya out on the range in a bit.”

As Chris returned his mug to the cook shack, Yuuri remained sitting and considered his last words. His thoughts had alighted on Phichit at various times over the winter and spring. But he’d been satisfied when he’d traveled into town with Victor and seen him that he was well on the mend, and then a couple of months ago Zach had told him at Sweetwater Sam’s that Phichit had returned to his ranch work. _I should’ve visited him, though_.

It was then Yuuri realized that his desire to see his friend had been eclipsed by the new life he’d started here at the Circle C, and being with Victor, and _not_ being around his parents – which would pretty much be a requirement of visiting the Rafter T. While he missed the solitude of his room, he discovered that didn’t miss anything else about the house or their company. It gave him a sinking feeling as he told himself he was being an ungrateful son. But that voice was small and quiet, because it did not reflect how he really felt; and he knew it.

***

Sunday saw Yuuri, Victor, Chris and Walt travelling together to Larkspur, where the rodeo was being held at an indoor area on the fairground. It didn’t take them long to find their companions from the Rafter T, Phichit and Zach, and soon the friends were catching up with news – Phichit reminding Yuuri not to leave it so long between visits again – and discussing what they hoped to see in the rodeo. Victor was planning to sit with them until the trick riding competition, which would be the last of the day; and he was slated to be the last performer. Yuuri hoped it would leave the judges with a good impression as they decided on the scores. He couldn’t imagine going through the anxiety of all that waiting to perform himself, but Victor seemed supremely unconcerned as he sat on the long wooden bench to Yuuri’s right and ate from his bag of popcorn. They’d all visited a stand to buy snacks before they’d gone inside: “Frederick Fassbinder’s Fifteen Flavors.” The proprietor has alternately been holding a wire basket over an open flame to cook the popcorn, or selling bottles of drink from a large chest full of ice.

“What are you eating?” Yuuri leaned over to his left to ask Phichit as they waited for the bronc riding to begin. It had a curious smell, like a tonic.

“Peppermint popcorn ball,” he answered, his mouth full.

“Weird,” Yuuri laughed.

“You should talk, with your sweet tooth.”

Yuuri looked down at his bag of molasses-flavored popcorn and bottle of root beer, and had to admit he had a point.

“Try some of mine if you like,” Victor suggested, offering his bag.

“It smells like roses.”

“That’s because it’s rose-flavored.”

It seemed that Victor was rather partial to roses, Yuuri decided. “I didn’t know you could actually eat them.”

Victor laughed. “Haven’t you ever had Turkish delight?”

“What’s that?” Yuuri asked, picking up some pieces of rose popcorn and eyeing them uncertainly.

“Oh, Yuuri. Sometime I’ll get some and you can try it.”

Yuuri popped the kernels into his mouth, chewed thoughtfully, and decided they were rather nice.

“Can I try some of yours?” Victor asked.

“Sure,” Yuuri said as he dipped his own hand into his bag first. Victor fished inside at the same time, and their fingers brushed together. He just looked at Yuuri as he ate the popcorn and said it was delicious but very sweet. A flutter Yuuri felt in his abdomen when they touched took him out of the light-heartedness of the moment and reminded him of what he’d told himself about Victor; how he was determined to shift his mind to something else and force these thoughts and feelings away when they came. But it was difficult when Victor was sitting right next to him. The fluttering refused to stop. Yuuri glued his eyes to the first cowboy who emerged into the arena a few dozen yards in front of and below where they were sitting. He’d never been very interested in bronc riding, especially since Victor had shown him kinder ways of training animals, but for now he pretended to himself that it was enthralling.

Once this was over, it was followed by steer roping and then trick roping. There was a good-sized crowd here today and the arena was almost full. Rodeo was a fairly recent phenomenon in Larkspur, but most folk found it entertaining; and the small entrance fee they paid added up to a substantial prize pot for the competition winners. Yuuri watched the roping with a keen eye, hoping to get some new ideas from the performers.

He heard Victor ask him if he’d ever entered any of these competitions before, and he replied that he wasn’t sure he wanted to perform in front of an audience of this size. As the final trick roper finished and the judges deliberated, Victor said confidentially near Yuuri’s ear, “But you’d beat any of the people we just saw, hands down. And you look so beautiful when you’re riding and roping in the corral. You have nothing to be self-conscious about, Yuuri.”

The fluttering turned into the beating wings of an entire flock of birds. Yuuri gulped the last of his root beer as he felt his cheeks turn pink.

After the prizes were awarded for the trick roping, first place going to the daughter of a rancher up north in the foothills who Yuuri knew in passing, an intermission was announced. The ranch hands rose and left the area as a group, though Victor pulled Yuuri aside as the others wandered over to an assortment of stalls and attractions that had been temporarily set up around the fairground. “I’m going to go and put Luchik through some paces to warm him up,” Victor told him. “So I won’t be back with all of you until after the competition.”

“Ah, OK.” Yuuri paused, unsure of how to respond. He had decided a lame “good luck” was probably the best he could do, when Victor spoke first.

“You know, in medieval times, it was customary for a knight going into battle to ask his lady to give him a token to take for luck. I know I’m not exactly going into battle, but what do you say – have you got something I can borrow?”

Yuuri’s eyes grew wide and his mouth hung open but no sound came out. Had…had Victor really said that? “Uh…” he finally managed; which, he thought, was even worse than saying nothing at all.

“How about that?” Victor asked with a mischievous smile, gesturing to Yuuri’s bandanna.

Feeling like he was melting slowly into the ground, Yuuri untied it and gave it silently to Victor. He made himself shut his jaw so that he didn’t look like a gawping fish.

“Perfect,” Victor said, tucking the bandanna into a vest pocket. “I’ll see you later, Yuuri.” With a final grin and a wink, he turned and made his way back into the arena.

Yuuri was still staring after him as Phichit arrived and took hold of his arm. “There you are. I guess Victor’s gone to get ready for the competition.”

“Y-yeah.”

“Something the matter?” Phichit asked, looking at him in concern.

“Uh, no, I’m fine.”

“Good. Well, I thought it’d be fun to play some of these fairground games out here. C’mon, let’s go together. You can win prizes.”

Yuuri went through his ritual of rolling a quirly while he walked with Phichit. Breathing in the smoke felt like a blessed relief. He had the feeling he’d somehow just run out of room near a cliff and was now toppling over it in slow motion, powerless to prevent himself from falling. His brain didn’t want to engage with anything at the moment for fear of what it would find; his heart was floating away somewhere to the northeast, if he judged the direction of the prevailing wind correctly; and Phichit was chattering something that might as well have been in another language for all Yuuri made of it.

“…try the shooting gallery,” he heard as his friend pulled him toward a stall where a man with a spectacular handlebar mustache was throwing various small items up in the air and another man was shooting at them with his Peacemaker.  


	17. Chapter 17

Phichit had bought himself another bag of popcorn, this time flavored just with butter and salt. He sat to Yuuri’s left again, and Chris was on his right; he was sipping a bottle of beer. Zach and Walt sat on his other side. “Them other acts was good, but the best is yet to come, I reckon,” he commented. They’d watched the other trick riders – who’d done appreciably well, Yuuri thought; and in previous years he would have been impressed. But he was dying to see the last performer, and sat quietly biting a nail while the emcée finally announced Victor’s name.

To say that he made a spectacular entrance would have been an understatement, Yuuri thought in amazement. The entrance gate to the arena was held open while Victor rode Luchik in at a gallop from outside. He was standing on the horse’s bare back, wearing a costume that made him look every inch the Cossack warrior. Black pants clung to his lithe, muscular legs, and he wore his usual knee-high brown leather boots. What really commanded attention, however, was his scarlet shirt and matching fitted jacket with billowing sleeves that buttoned at the wrists, gold piping down the hem and circling the arms in several different places, and cape-like swath of material in the back that fell to just below his buttocks but rippled and fanned back as Luchik galloped. As if that weren’t enough, he was also twirling a curved silver sword in each hand over his head, as if he were truly riding into war and intimidating his enemy; yet the expression on his face suggested pleasant confidence rather than ferocity. There was a roar from the crowd at this display, as well as clapping and cheers.

Phichit goggled and froze his hand in mid-air between his popcorn bag and mouth. Yuuri gasped audibly, planted his palms firmly on the bench, perched on the edge of it, and smiled in wonderment. Chris just laughed and shook his head. “Victor, ya ol’ showoff.”

Victor lowered the swords and waved them underneath his feet as he jumped over them while still balancing on Luchik’s back, which elicited more cheering and applause. Yuuri felt sure the audience had never seen anything like this. It was then, as Victor tossed the swords to the center of the arena and out of the way, that he noticed the navy-blue bandanna tied around the top of Victor’s left arm – and all the feelings that had flooded him outside, which he’d somehow forced back down as he’d passed the time with Phichit, came rushing back. Yuuri was staring at the most beautiful, talented, sensual, thoughtful, warm and kind person he’d ever known, and he _wanted_ him; wanted him so much he could almost taste it. The fluttering feeling had been replaced by a flame that burned from his chest to his groin. His breathing quickened and his throat went dry; his lips were slightly parted. He felt Chris’s eyes on him but took no notice.

But the next thought that entered his mind was: _How could someone like that ever want someone like me?_

“Yuuri…” Phichit said suddenly, “…is that your bandanna he’s wearing?” He indicated Yuuri’s neck.

“Shhh,” Yuuri replied, batting the words away. Phichit looked confused, but turned back to watch the show.

The rest of it passed for Yuuri like a dream; it was as if the entire audience had been eliminated, and it was just himself and Victor in the arena. Victor slowed Luchik to a trot and performed a series of gymnastic moves on the horse’s back, as if he were at the stable on the balance beam or the vault. He jumped up and did a side split, touching his toes. He performed what Yuuri recognized as an accomplished, swanlike arabesque, bending forward to gesture to the audience with a smile with one leg high in the air and the other somehow balancing on Luchik’s back. Yuuri wondered where he’d learned it – had Victor been watching him practicing in the stable? But he had no more time to contemplate as Victor executed a series of forward and backward somersaults, lifting high into the air for each. Next he did a handstand, shifting his legs into different poses and holding each for a moment. The audience hardly stopped cheering. For the finale, he launched from the handstand high into the air, managed _two_ somersaults, and landed on both feet behind Luchik, arms extending upwards as he waved to the audience, and they clapped and whistled and roared back. Picking the swords up from the middle of the arena, he led Luchik away with a final wave and smile. The noise from the crowd died to a buzz as the emcée announced that the judges would choose a winner in the next few minutes.

 

“Wow,” Phichit said, snaffling up the rest of his popcorn, which he’d forgotten to eat while he’d been watching Victor. “That was just…wow. And did you see his costume?”

“I can see why he wanted to keep it all a secret,” Chris said. “I weren’t expectin’ _that_ , sho’ nuff.”

Yuuri felt spellbound, and didn’t know what to say; didn’t feel like speaking anyway. His thoughts were filled with the blue-eyed man in the scarlet costume who’d just done impossible things in front of him.         

***

“Yuuri, why don’t you go in and see what’s keeping Victor?” Phichit suggested. The ranch hands were mounted outside the arena, ready to head back. When the announcement had come that Victor had won the trick riding competition, he’d reappeared briefly to accept a tin bucket with money inside, then presumably had gone to change out of his costume, but hadn’t reappeared for some time.

Yuuri nodded and went inside, eventually finding his way to the large area that was being used as a changing and prep room by the men in the rodeo. It was mostly empty now, but people were still coming and going – and then Yuuri spotted Victor speaking to an older man in cowboy togs in the corner. They finished their conversation and Victor said goodbye as Yuuri approached. He was still wearing his costume.

“Sorry I’m taking so long,” Victor said with a sheepish grin as he unbuttoned his shirt cuffs. “A lot of people seem to want to congratulate me. They’ve been making it hard to leave – but I don’t want to disappoint them or be rude. So…what did you think?”

Yuuri huffed a laugh. “What did I _think_? It was…incredible. Where did those swords come from? And…” He gestured toward Victor’s outfit.

Victor’s grin turned into a scintillating smile as he basked in the compliment. “Thank you. I’ve had the swords for a while, and a very talented tailor in Larkspur made the costume.” He paused. “You know, I wanted to add more to what I did, but I didn’t have the time. I wanted to do some of the trick roping you showed me. Maybe you can show me again sometime; you’re so good at it.” He pulled his boots off.

“I was thinking…” Yuuri said, swallowing as he watched Victor. “It looked like fun, what you were doing. And…I’ve thought for a while that it’d help if I felt I had something to aim for with all the trick riding and gymnastics. I’d like to get good enough at that stuff to compete next year myself.” This idea had only occurred to him while he’d been waiting with the other men outside of the arena, but it made sense, and excited him. He waited with a twinge of nervousness for Victor’s response.

“I was hoping you’d say that eventually.” Victor looked pleased, his eyes locking with Yuuri’s. “I think it’s a wonderful idea. Oh – ” He glanced down at his left arm and then back. “ – I’m still wearing your bandanna. Here.” He untied it, then raised it to his lips and kissed it. “It must have brought me luck after all,” he said quietly, holding it out to Yuuri.

Yuuri let out a small puff of air and took it, then stood clutching it as the flame inside of him blazed. If they hadn’t been in a public place, he thought he might just lose what self-control he had left and grab Victor and kiss him to within an inch of his life. As it was, he swallowed and went to tie his bandanna around his neck – which was when he realized that he’d forgotten he was holding something.

“What’s that?” Victor asked with a little laugh.

“Oh.” Yuuri untucked it from under his arm, where he’d been carrying it since he’d dismounted from Biscuit. “Uh, I won this. At the test-your-strength stall outside the arena, during the intermission.” He held up the stuffed burlap rabbit with floppy ears, black button eyes, and nose and mouth stitched with black yarn. “Phichit wanted to play some of the games. He won a ceramic poodle at the shooting gallery.”

Victor looked at it in surprise, then let out a loud laugh, his eyes shining. Yuuri smiled, then began laughing himself. “I have no idea what I’m going to do with it.”

“Maybe it can be the new bunkhouse mascot,” Victor suggested, chuckling and quickly changing out of the rest of his costume into the clothes he’d worn to the arena. Yuuri turned away while he did so. “Come on,” he said when he was done, taking Yuuri’s arm and steering him, “let’s go find out what other treasures people have won today.”             

***

_Daisy. Cinnamon. Pixie. Biscuit – no, I can’t use the same name as my horse._

Yuuri took a deep breath. He was hanging from the rings, and Victor was on the balance beam. It was a warm day; both of them were sweating and had removed their shirts. His eyes wandered back over to those slick arms and shoulders and torso, moving together in glorious unison. He flicked them back to the ground underneath him, willing himself to keep his attention elsewhere.

_Angel. Peanut. Nibbles. Lily. Cookie._ Oh – he liked that last one. _OK. I’m twenty-four years old and I have a stuffed rabbit called Cookie. Not that different from a horse called Biscuit, I guess._

“Yuuri, I think I’m done here for the day,” came Victor’s voice, and Yuuri saw that he was toweling himself off. “Do you want to…” His voice trailed off.

Yuuri continued to hold his pose; he was keeping his body straight, feet pointed down, using the muscles in his shoulders and arms, which were slightly bent at the elbows. Noticing the silence, he looked over at Victor and saw he was staring, with a peculiar intense look in his eyes. “Something wrong?”

“No,” Victor replied, swallowing and turning away to put his shirt and hat on. “Um, are you ready to go get some food?”

“That’s OK; I think I’ll stay here for a while yet. I feel like I need the workout today.”

Victor nodded and left without another word.

_Strange. Did I say something to offend him?_ Yuuri dropped down from the rings, sighing and grabbing his towel. He didn’t really feel like more exercise. What he needed was some space – away from the growing distraction that was Victor. Until he could figure out what to do about it.

It was a week or so after the rodeo, and he continued to feel ashamed of the direction his thoughts were straying in. Before he realized it, he would find himself in the middle of fantasies that featured just about everything his admittedly limited knowledge and experience could conjure up about what he and Victor could do together, and how, and where, as if his sex drive were making up for years of neglect. It was tantalizing. Frustrating. Horrifying.

But the shame wasn’t coming so much from having grown up with the idea that this was wrong, he mused as he toweled himself off. He’d also grown up with the idea that it was wrong to be Japanese here, or to want to dance in a style that would be considered effeminate, like ballet; and he was used to weighing things like this up in his own mind and deciding that the actual wrong was in him not being accepted for parts of himself that were natural and innocuous. He guessed he could add this to the list.

No, what made him feel ashamed now was when he imagined what Victor’s reaction might be if he knew. And the value Yuuri placed on their friendship was precisely the reason why he was terrified of taking a risk that might put it in jeopardy.  

Maybe Victor was simply a tactile person. Maybe he liked to tease, but that was all it was, and he didn’t expect Yuuri to take it seriously. The bandanna thing, for example. His gut instinct told him that Victor was rather more sincere and less cruel than that – but what if he was wrong? He was eternally grateful that he’d been unable to kiss Victor after the rodeo because of the lack of privacy. If he misinterpreted any of Victor’s actions and used that as a basis for trying to initiate something physical between them, would Victor be offended and send him back to the Rafter T? Or maybe things would just be incredibly uncomfortable between them, and he’d lose a dear friend.

The thought of it was unbearable, Yuuri told himself as he changed into his boots and put his shirt and hat on. _And god, all of this is unbearable to think about. How did I ever find myself in such a mess?_ But so was being in close proximity to Victor. His baths in the wooden trough outside. The way he stood so close and was so free with his hugs, touches on the arm or shoulder, a finger against Yuuri’s chin or cheek. Working out with him in the stable. Yuuri had already resolved not to go to the river to bathe or wash his clothes at the same time anymore without inviting at least one other ranch hand along, like Chris; it had never felt as innocent as it was when he’d done it with other cowboys like Phichit, and that was a situation he didn’t know how to deal with. And in addition to all this was the lingering uncertainty that someone as beautiful and talented as Victor would be interested in an ordinary person like himself anyway.

Victor was bound to notice his odd behavior at some point, Yuuri knew. In the past when he’d felt pent up like this, it had usually worked to distract himself. But nothing was working now. Maybe the only option was to leave the Circle C? Once away from Victor, in time, maybe…

But the very thought of it was anathema; it made Yuuri feel sick to consider losing this person he’d come to care so much about. And while he was unsure of Victor’s feelings for him, he could at least feel certain that if he left the ranch, Victor would be hurt too. That just wasn’t an option.

Yuuri felt like a man who’d been asked for his last penny and had turned his pants pockets inside out to show that he didn’t have anything left. There were no more ideas, no strategies for how to navigate through such a difficult situation – one he was completely inexperienced with. The only way to cope he could come up with was to accept what his own feelings were, and that he would not be able to change them or stop the fantasies from arising in his head. But what he _could_ do was choose not to act on them. That, at least, was in his power.

He hoped.


	18. Chapter 18

“Abe’s asked me to ride over to a ranch near Huntsdale to check out some of their studs,” Victor told Yuuri one afternoon. He had walked into the stable as Yuuri was feeding the horses, having presumably just been in conference with the ranch owner.

“That’s about fifty miles east of here, isn’t it?” Yuuri said, pausing before picking up a hay bale.

Victor nodded. “Abe wants to buy or swap, seeing as how we’ve got a pen full of tame mustangs now. I asked if you could come along, but he’s only willing to put one person up in the hotel for the night, and well…I don’t suppose there’s much in Huntsdale to recommend it anyway. Bit of a one-horse town, so to speak.”

Yuuri blinked. “It’ll be about a two-day journey out there, then.”

“Yeah. I’ll spend a day at the ranch and then come back, so I’ll be gone five days. Maybe a little less, if Luchik makes good time.”

“OK.” Yuuri fiddled with his bandanna, looking down.

“Hey,” Victor said, giving him a soft smile, “I’ll be back before you know it. There’s plenty for you to do while I’m away. And I know Chris and the other men will take care of you if you let them. I’m not the only one here who’s got a thing or two to teach someone who’s willing to listen.”

Yuuri nodded and gave him a tentative smile in return, though he had a sinking feeling in his stomach. Five days without Victor. “When are you leaving?”

“First thing tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow?” Yuuri repeated in surprise.

“There’s no reason to wait around.” Victor paused, then lowered his voice. “Look…you did me a favor at the rodeo. How about I do the same for you now.” Stepping forward so that he was directly in front of Yuuri, he reached forward and untied Yuuri’s bandanna and handed it to him. Then he untied his own red and white one and retied it around Yuuri’s neck with a grin. “There. So you don’t forget me while I’m gone.”

Yuuri felt a coil of tension in his abdomen. His head swam. He desperately wanted to encircle Victor in his arms and openly express how he was feeling right now, but he knew he couldn’t. So he did what he figured was the next best thing. He reached over and tied his own bandanna around Victor’s neck. “So you don’t forget me either,” he said quietly.

“That’s hardly likely to happen.”

“You just make sure you get back here safe and sound in five days. Promise me.”

Victor’s gaze was deep and sincere. “I promise.”

***

Yuuri passed the next several days by losing himself in his work on the ranch, as well as practicing the usual trick riding, ballet and gymnastics. There was no reason now to concentrate so heavily on these things, as it was almost a year before the next rodeo, but it took his mind off the fact that Victor wasn’t around. Yuuri felt his absence like an empty ache inside of him. The bandanna around his neck had smelled of roses, and Victor, for a little while, but was now more ‘Yuuri’ than anything else, especially after he’d been sweating after a hot day in the sun. Finally he was compelled to wash it, but he continued to tie it around his neck.

Sunday afternoon, Walt persuaded him to join in a game of horseshoes outside the bunkhouse. Yuuri had never played before, and was pleased to find he wasn’t too bad at it, though it would take some more practice before he won any games. He placed some bets, lost a few and won one, and so ended up just about breaking even. The evening was spent in idle chatting and drinking, though Yuuri didn’t overdo it this time; and when one of the men in the bunkhouse started playing banjo tunes, he preferred to lay propped up in his bunk and let the music wash over him rather than dance.

Walt sat in a chair next to him for a while, telling him about growing up in Missouri, and how the summers could get so hot and humid that you could practically cut the air with a knife. When his father was killed in the line of duty as sheriff of their town, it had been up to himself and his two brothers to go out and find work to support his mother and their three younger sisters. He didn’t make a lot of money as a cowboy, but he made sure he sent part of it home every month.

“That’s really decent of you,” Yuuri said, feeling moved by the tale. “Must be hard, though.”

Walt shrugged and took a sip from his whiskey bottle. “I got pretty much everything I need, so what am I gonna spend the money on? And this ain’t a bad place to work.”

Yuuri smiled. He ought to speak to the other men on the ranch more often, he decided. Unsure of what else to say, however, he sat quietly and listened to the lilt of the banjo and watched several of the ranch hands perform an impromptu square dance, having shifted the box-tables out of the center of the room.

“Don’t feel much like dancin’ tonight, huh?” Walt said.

“Guess not.”

“Ah, I think you’re missin’ Victor, ain’t ya? He’s been gone a while.”

“Four days.”

“He’ll be back soon, an’ you guys can go back to whatever it is you do with them horses out there. Lord knows how you do it, but I ain’t never seen anythin’ like it in all my born years.”

Yuuri laughed. “Glad you like it. And yeah, he should be back sometime tomorrow. Weather’s been good, and he’s got a fast horse.” He sighed and rested his hands behind his head, against the wall. “Yeah, it’ll be good to see him again.”

***

The next morning, after a breakfast of sausage patties and hash browns just to make a change, Yuuri was on his way back to the bunkhouse to collect some of his things when Chris fell into stride next to him, heading in the same direction. “Howdy, Yuuri,” he greeted him.

“Morning, Chris.”

“What ya up to today?”

“Usual stuff I guess. Working in the stables. Moving some cattle to new pastures. I’ll probably see you out there later.”

They walked in silence for a moment; then Chris’s voice lowered to a more serious note. “Ya got a minute?” He strode over to the white picket fence lining this part of the path and leaned on it, tilting his head in invitation for Yuuri to follow, which he did.

“Y’know, I don’t like the look of the sky over yonder,” Chris mused, pulling a toothpick out of a vest pocket and commencing to chew on it as he gazed out at the mountains beyond the ranch house and river. “Could be some bad weather’s headed this way later. Could be it jus’ burns off in the sun. Hafta wait an’ see.”

“Hmm.” Yuuri rolled and lit a quirly. They stood for a moment, leaning on the fence and looking into the distance. “You wanted to tell me something?” he prompted.

“Uh, yeah. I did.” There was another pause, and he sighed. “It’s a bit on the personal side, ya understan’, but we’ve known each other for a while now, an’ I kin tell you ain’t the kind’s gonna go blabbin’ stuff to ever’body.” Another pause. “Ya know when I tol’ ya that I came here on a cattle drive an’ never left?” Yuuri nodded, looking at him. “Well, there was a reason for that, an’ his name’s Zach Larsen.”

Yuuri’s eyes grew wide. “You mean – ”

“Yup, we’re a couple. Have been for some time.” He picked at his teeth thoughtfully.

“That’s…” Yuuri searched for words, wondering how on earth to reply to something like this. “Um, fine – but why are you telling me now?”

“No perticklar reason.” Pause. “Apart from that ya seen us together often enough, an’ Ah thought ya may as well know.”

“OK.” Yuuri finished his quirly and crushed it out under his boot heel.

“An’ Ah thought maybe ya might understand.”

Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”

Chris resumed, staring at him, “Me an’ Zach ain’t the only ones who…y’know. Folks keep it quiet for reasons which I’m sure you’re aware of, but I’ve seen stuff goin’ on – an’ sometimes folks jus’ come right out an’ tell me. They know I’m good at keepin’ confidences, ya see. Ah jus’ thought ya might be interested to hear, was all. I ain’t gonna start betrayin’ confidences neither, but…well, shucks.” He broke his toothpick in half and flung it away. “Try openin’ your eyes a little more, maybe, is all I’m sayin’.”

Yuuri became aware that his mouth was hanging open. He’d seldom heard a stranger speech.

Chris clapped him on the back. “See ya for some steer ropin’ later.” With that, he turned and carried on toward the bunkhouse.

Yuuri continued to stare at the mountains, trying to puzzle out what Chris had been telling him. So he and Zach were…lovers? He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, but the truth was that he was – because it had started to feel to him like he was the only man on earth who felt this way about another man. And here, all along, were two people he’d been working with, and respected, and considered friends – and the thought that they were something more to each other had never even crossed his mind. They were certainly…discreet, he guessed was the right word.

He wasn’t satisfied with Chris’s answer to his question of why he’d decided to tell him about this now, however. It would seem that Chris suspected something about Yuuri – but how had he given himself away? And if Chris suspected, what about Victor? He bit on a fingernail and sighed. If Victor did suspect, he hadn’t given Yuuri any indication of it. What was more, those comments about other people confiding in Chris…who else had told him that they had feelings for another man? A thought struck Yuuri like a lightning bolt. Victor was his friend. They seemed fairly close. Maybe, just maybe…

_I can’t be sure about that, though. And what Chris said just now was pretty cryptical._

Yuuri shook his head, taking one last glance toward the growing cloud bank far out over the mountains before making his own way to the bunkhouse. 

***

“Sir, I’d like to ask for some time off to go see if I can find him.” Yuuri was standing in the parlor of the Connors’ ranch house, fingering his hat between his hands.

Abe was a tall, slim, keen-featured man in his forties, with thinning hair and gray eyes. He wore a brown suit with a white shirt and black string tie; and a pair of pince-nez were poised on the end of his nose, as he’d been using them to read a stack of papers that he had just put back down on the sideboard as the housekeeper had admitted Yuuri. “Haven’t seen you here in a while, my lad,” he said cordially. “Care for a drink?”

 _Did you hear what I just said?_ Yuuri took a breath and tried to remain calm. “No, thanks. Mr. Connor, I know it’s only been two days, but Victor promised he’d be back the day before yesterday, and I don’t know what there could be between here and Huntsdale that could be keeping him.”

Abe Connor stood and regarded him. “Oh, I can think of lots of things. Indian trouble. Injured horse. Broken saddle strap. Stopped to fix somebody’s wagon wheel. Hell, maybe he just liked the view or decided to do some hunting on his way back. It hasn’t been that long, and I wouldn’t worry.”

“Maybe the storm on Monday gave him some trouble,” Yuuri pressed. With a heavy heart, he mused that Chris had been right that morning when he’d looked out at the mountains and observed that the weather was probably going to take a turn for the worse. In the afternoon the wind had quickly kicked up and blown a powerful storm over the mountains and across the eastern plains, dumping hail large enough to knock someone out, and torrential rains that had sluiced across the land, in some places carving deep new channels in the mud. There had even been reports of a tornado that had ripped apart barns and feeding stations several miles southeast of Larkspur. Yuuri had to assume that Victor had been caught out in it – it would have been his second day of travel on the way back to the ranch. Sitting in the bunkhouse with that going on outside, knowing Victor was out there somewhere, had been a painful reminder of his vigil throughout the blizzard a few months back.

“I’ll admit it was a bad storm, but it shouldn’t be any problem for one man on a horse to reckon with,” Abe said.

Tears pricked at Yuuri’s eyes, but he knew it would be foolish to give them free rein in front of the ranch boss. “Sir. With all due respect, there’s all kinds of ways he or his horse might’ve been hurt, and he could need help. Surely you can spare me for a few days. If it turns out that Victor’s fine, I’ll probably just meet him on the road, and we’ll come back together.”

Abe continued to stare at him, obviously considering. “I’m not worried myself, son, about someone who’s probably better than most at taking care of himself. But I can see this has gotten you in a stew. I suppose I can get by without you here for a while. But how do you propose to find him, if he’s not on the road?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Yuuri replied quickly. “There’s a farmer who lives east of Larkspur, Herb Morrison – I know him because he’s done some business with my dad. He’s got a tracker dog called Toby. He’s a bloodhound, and I hear they’re the best tracker dogs around.”

Abe made a “hmph” sound, then nodded. “Just mind how you go. Last thing I need is both my best horsemen going missing.”

***

Yuuri rode Biscuit at a trot down the empty dirt track that skirted Larkspur to the south and headed out east to the Great Divide Basin, a desolate region of scrub, sand dunes, alkali flats and bluffs. The area around Larkspur, being closer to the mountains, was more lush, and with luck Victor – whatever had happened to him – was not far from there. Before he’d gone, Yuuri had packed some essential supplies and informed the handful of men who had been in the bunkhouse where he was going, one of them being Chris. Chris, knowing Victor’s habits, had shown some concern that his friend hadn’t arrived when he’d promised to, or the two days after that; though the other men’s attitudes were similar to Abe’s. Yuuri had paused for thought – was he blowing the situation out of proportion? Perhaps Victor would ride in on Luchik any moment and look in surprise at Yuuri’s fevered preparations. But like he’d said to Abe, he figured there was no harm in trying; and if Victor really did need help, then Yuuri would do his best to ensure he got it.

When he arrived at Herb Morrison’s farm an hour and a half later, he recognized his wife Jill sitting on the top step of the wooden porch of the house, shucking peas in a big bowl, while her young son and daughter ran around and played nearby. She said Herb was inside somewhere, and went to look for him, shouting his name, while Yuuri dismounted. Soon the powerfully built dark-haired man, about ten years Yuuri’s senior, walked out and shook hands. His pants and shirt were homespun and plain, and he wore a floppy brown broad-brimmed felt hat and a pair of thick flat-soled leather boots.

“Ain’t seen you or your dad in ages,” he said. “How ya been?”

“I’m OK. I’ve been working over at the Circle C lately, and one of our men went missing a couple of days ago; he traveled out to Huntsdale and hasn’t come back yet.”

“That so?”

“Yeah, and I’m worried about him because of the storm we had Monday. Abe Connor’s given me permission to come out and look for him.”

Herb nodded. “I think I see what you’re drivin’ at now. There’s one thing people usually want when they come to me sayin’ they need to find somebody, and that’s Toby.”

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Yuuri said. “I just need to make sure he’s OK.”     

“Wait here a minute.” Herb went over to Jill and conferred with her for a few minutes, then returned to Yuuri. “The little lady says that if someone’s in need, it’s our duty to help if we can.” He smiled. “I tend to agree. So tell me more about this guy you’re lookin’ for, and whereabouts you think we ought to go.” 

***

Toby trotted along, his chocolate-colored ears bouncing and tail wagging as he followed the scent he’d found. His master lingered behind, watching closely, mounted on his stout black mustang. It hadn’t taken long the previous day for the bloodhound to pick up a scent once Herb had held Victor’s sock to his nose, and they’d found themselves on the main eastbound road. This in itself was hopeful, as Yuuri had feared that the heavy rains had washed away all traces – though it was still a possibility anywhere they went, Herb warned him.

In the evening Toby had paused uncertainly, first going further eastward down the road, and then doubling back and indicating a new scent trail off to the north. The dog resorted to some trial-and-error searching at first, as the road dipped low here, and it had recently received a coating of silt that indicated it had been flooded. Once he found the scent again, however, he initially dashed off in a straight line. It looked to Herb as if Toby had decided this scent was the fresher one, which would make sense if Victor had been returning from Huntsdale, and so they had followed it. Unfortunately, Toby seemed anything but certain about his way, tentatively running here and there at times as he lost the scent and then believed he’d picked it up. They crossed alarmingly large stretches of land where enormous quantities of mud and sandy grit had been deposited, washed down off of bluffs from recent flash floods. Not only would any scent be lost under these, but Yuuri hated to think of the trouble Victor might have run into that day while these waters were slicing across the land with nothing in their way to stop them.  

Failing to make much more headway, Yuuri and Herb built a fire that night, cooked and ate a basic meal of pork and beans, and talked for a while until they fell asleep in their bedrolls under the stars. Yuuri was aware he was probably a poor host on this excursion, but he was becoming increasingly worried about Victor, and found it impossible to banish anxious thoughts from his mind. He also was unsure of Toby’s ability to successfully guide them through this godforsaken land on a cold rain-washed scent, and had begun to wonder if the smarter option would be to return to the main road, go to Huntsdale, ask after Victor there or at the ranch he was supposed to have visited, and then head back to the Circle C on the main road – possibly to find that Victor had arrived before them. But when he’d voiced this option to Herb in the morning, the farmer seemed to have more faith than Yuuri in his pet’s abilities, and advised that it was worth following him a little further yet. Choosing to trust the man’s instincts, Yuuri had reluctantly agreed.

It was now mid-afternoon, and the sun dazzled down on them as they rounded a long hill and passed a small stand of cedars to be greeted with a vista of green and yellow bluffs in the distance, a long grass- and scrub-covered plain rolling out to them with a lone hut planted on the way like an afterthought. Toby was headed in that general direction, and Yuuri and Herb followed, though the little hut was the only man-made feature in sight, and it looked like it had been long abandoned by the shepherds who had probably built it as a seasonal shelter. The wooden planks had lost whatever color they had been painted or stained and were now gray and brittle-looking. There was no glass in the dark windows, and the sloping metal roof was rusting. If Victor had come here, Luchik was nowhere to be seen; and there were no sounds coming from inside. Yet Toby had become increasingly excited as he’d run up to the door, where he stopped and whined, scratching at the wood with a paw.

Yuuri and Herb looked at each other uncertainly as they dismounted, and then Yuuri tentatively pulled on the rusty latch loosely fastened to the weathered door, which swung open with a tiny creak. “Victor?” he called quietly as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the dimmer light inside the enclosure. There was no answer. The floor was inexpertly covered with wooden planks, which was better than bare earth at least; and there were basic pieces of furniture scattered around, which Yuuri wasn’t interested in examining just now. He took a further step inside, with Herb following behind him. Toby, however, dashed past both of them and ran to the far end of the room, where he gave a low woof and wagged his tail, nosing at something on the floor.

With a growing mixture of relief and horror, Yuuri walked to where the dog stood and looked down. Victor lay there on his back in the shadows, one arm splayed out, utterly still and silent.


	19. Chapter 19

“Victor!” Yuuri cried in dismay, kneeling down and examining his face. His eyes were closed and he was even paler than usual. There was some kind of injury on the left side of his head that had bled, and there was dried blood caked in his hair. Yuuri couldn’t tell whether or not he was breathing.

“Victor – no…” He put a hand on either side of his face, giving his cheek a light slap with one of them; but nothing roused him.

“Check his pulse,” came Herb’s voice as he knelt down beside Yuuri, Toby scrambling out of the way after a quick acknowledgement from Herb that he’d been a good boy.

“Oh – of course,” Yuuri said, struggling to make his brain work. It would be no help to anyone if all he did was panic. Fighting off a sick wave of fear, he picked up Victor’s hand and felt his wrist, thought maybe there was a flutter, but it was difficult to tell.

“Lemme see.” Herb put two fingers against the side of Victor’s neck. Yuuri watched him, eyes wide with dread. “Wait, now – I think there’s somethin’ here.” He pressed his fingers down more firmly. “Yeah, there is. He’s alive, Yuuri,” he said with a smile.

Yuuri released the breath he was holding, feeling dizzy with relief, and scrambled around to sit behind Victor, then scooted forward and lifted the upper half of his body onto his so that he was cradling him, the back of Victor’s head resting on his shoulder. “Victor,” Yuuri said into his ear as he stroked the long, straggly blond bangs away from his face. “Victor, wake up.”

He thought he could hear some faint breaths now – or was he imagining it? No – Victor’s lips had parted, and his eyelids twitched. Then a small unintelligible noise came from his throat.

“What did you say?” Yuuri asked, still speaking into his ear. There was another noise that he did his best to interpret. He looked over at Herb, who was kneeling nearby and watching. “I think he said ‘water.’ ”

Herb nodded and got up to look around the hut. “The shepherds who use these places usually leave provisions for whenever someone comes by. There’s some old tin pails here – ” He moved around the small room, examining its few scattered contents. “ – but if there was water in ’em before, it’s gone now. I got a full canteen on my saddle, though.” He disappeared outside and reappeared moments later with a round leather-covered metal container that sloshed, and handed it to Yuuri, who pulled the stopper off.

“Here, drink this,” he said, tilting it up and holding it to Victor’s lips. He was careful not to let more than a trickle out once Victor opened his mouth. “Not too fast.” He could hear Victor swallowing, pausing, gasping, and swallowing again. When the canteen was empty, Herb reached over and lifted it away, replacing the stopper. Yuuri saw a flash of blue as Victor tried to open his eyes. He was trying to mutter something, but Yuuri couldn’t make out the words. For all he knew, they could be in Russian.

“Do you think you could help me carry him over to that mattress?” he asked Herb. The farmer came over and grasped Victor’s feet while Yuuri stood and supported Victor’s head and shoulders, and together they moved him the short distance across the room and gently laid him down on the straw-stuffed old mattress. It was better than the floor at any rate, Yuuri thought. He went outside to Biscuit, removed his saddlebags and took them inside, then grabbed a blanket from one, rolled it up, and propped it under Victor’s head for him to use as a pillow.

“Yuuri,” came a weak voice that was finally audible and clear. Victor had turned his head and was looking up at him with heavy lids. “You came.” An exhausted grin stretched his lips.

Yuuri knelt down on the floor next to him. “Yeah. What else can I do for you – do you need more water?”

“I…think I’m OK for now. Maybe in a while. I ran out…for days, I think…”

 _Days?”_ Yuuri echoed. “God, Victor. Can you tell me what happened to your head?”

“My head?” He looked confused.

“You seem to have hurt it somehow.”

“I’m not sure…”

Herb knelt down beside Yuuri and looked at Victor, lifting a finger to the dried patch of blood on the side of his head. “You’ve had some kinda nasty knock there, pard. Looks like it’s healin’ up OK though.”

Victor lay quietly for a moment, then looked up at Yuuri. There was still uncertainty in his eyes.

“This is Herb Morrison,” Yuuri explained. “He’s a local farmer. His dog Toby led us here to you.” He turned to Herb. “Though god knows how, after all that rain we had.” Toby came to stand between them just then, and Yuuri gave the fur on his head between his ears an affectionate ruffle. “You’re the cleverest dog in the whole world, did you know that?”

Herb laughed as Toby’s tongue lolled out and his tail thumped on the floor a couple of times. “I ain’t gonna argue with ya.”

“He’s lovely,” Victor said in a small hoarse but affectionate voice, reaching a hand out to give the dog’s muzzle a stroke. Then he looked at Herb. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Say, you look like you’re perkin’ up a mite now.”

“I…think I needed water more than anything else. Do you have some more?”

Yuuri dashed back out to Biscuit, grabbed his own canteen, and was soon at Victor’s side with it. “I’m no expert, but I think it’s best to sip it rather than guzzle it all in one go,” he said, tipping it to Victor’s lips again. This time Victor was able to place a hand on the bottom of the canteen to help steady it as he drank. When the water was gone, Yuuri put the empty canteen on the floor and watched Victor’s face, which seemed to have regained a little color.

“Can you move OK?” Herb asked Victor. “Any pain anywhere?”

“I’ve got a headache, but I don’t think anything’s broken,” Victor answered. “I remember walking around before…before you were here.”

Yuuri wanted to pick up and hold his hand, but decided not to. Then another part of him, the one that had been terrified that Victor might have died and was relieved beyond measure to find that he didn’t seem to be seriously hurt after all, said _You’re honestly worried about that after everything that’s just happened?_ and gave him permission to lace his fingers through Victor’s. He could feel Victor applying slight pressure in return, and Yuuri grinned like a fool.

“Yuuri, you got a minute?” Herb asked. He stood and moved to the doorway; and Yuuri, telling Victor he’d be back soon, released his hand and got up and followed.

“I ain’t no doctor,” Herb said quietly, “but my guess is this fella hit his head on something. He might have a concussion. And it sounds like he ran out of water and got dehydrated on top of it. With some time and some care, my feelin’ is he’ll come around. Lotsa guys come to grief out here – it’s a big, open, lonely place.”

“I gave him all your water. I’m sorry – ”

“Water ain’t no problem for either of us now. There’s a creek runs about half a mile east of here, over toward them bluffs. We’re not that far from the road, either – we might’ve traveled a fair way, but most of it was zigzaggin’ and doublin’ back up on ourselves while Toby found the scent. Travelers who know the creek’s there, or who spot it from the hills yonder, detour sometimes to use it – water can be scarce in these parts at this time of year, y’know.  I can fill up there. An’ my suggestion is you do the same – that’s if your plan’s to stay here with this Victor fella ’til he’s on the mend?”

“I…” Yuuri hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. “Yeah, that’s a good plan. He has a horse – I don’t know where it went – but I’ve got provisions, and maybe there are some here if I look.”

Herb laughed somberly. “Ya take pot luck in places like this, but ya never know. The shepherds usually stock ’em, but it can depend on how long it’s been since someone was here last.”

Yuuri nodded. “Herb, can I ask you another favor? On your way back, do you think you could go to the Circle C and tell them what’s happened? Let them know we’ll be back as soon as Victor’s able to ride?”

“Sure, Yuuri. That’s the least I can do. Say, do you want me to stick around awhile, until you’re sure you two’s gonna be all right on your own?”

Yuuri considered for a moment. “Thanks, but I think we can manage. You’d better get yourself and Toby back to your family.”

He offered to pay Herb for his trouble, but the farmer would have none of it, saying that people in these parts had to look out for each other and that was all there was to it – though it might not be a bad idea to have Victor checked out by a doctor when they got back to Larkspur, just to be on the safe side. Yuuri’s heart was touched by his compassion, and he promised to come back to see Herb and do something to thank him for what possibly amounted to saving Victor’s life. They parted shortly afterward, Yuuri standing outside the door and watching Herb vanish on his horse, with Toby trotting nearby.

***

The little shack was filled with the aroma of bubbling baked beans and bacon, and Yuuri leaned back in one of the two spindly little chairs, his boots resting on the edge of the table, as he gave the food another minute to cook and watched Victor, who was still lying on the mattress in the corner. He couldn’t tell if he was asleep or just resting, but he’d said he was hungry, so Yuuri was making enough for two.

Victor had still been confused earlier when Yuuri tried to get him to piece together what had happened, so he decided his first priority was to make him comfortable and let him rest. He was also still clearly exhausted, passing in and out of a doze, though he never regained the alarmingly pale, almost waxy look he’d had when Yuuri had found him. His clothes were dishevelled, as was his hair, and his chin was covered in several days’ worth of stubble. It seemed utterly wrong for someone who liked preening as much as Victor did. He looked like someone who’d crawled across a desert.

Yuuri had been able to clean the head wound for him, which was something, he reckoned. The first thing he’d done after Herb had gone was to grab the two large tin pails in the shack that seemed to have been designed for the purpose of holding water – there were lids for them propped against the wall – and, after letting Victor know where he was going, took them and his canteen out to the creek. Herb had been correct; it wasn’t difficult to spot once he’d climbed a little way up the bluffs and looked down. While he was there, Yuuri took out the field glasses that he’d removed from his saddlebags and spent a good while scanning the area for signs of Luchik, to no avail. Unfortunately, Victor couldn’t yet tell Yuuri what had happened to his beloved horse, if he knew himself, and all Yuuri figured he could do for now was hope that he would turn up. It was especially bad that he would no doubt be carrying all of Victor’s provisions, as well as his trick saddle.

What if someone had actually attacked Victor and stolen Luchik? Yuuri vowed to himself that if he discovered that was the case, whoever had dared to do such a thing would have him to answer to. He wouldn’t stop until he hunted them down and made them regret what they’d done ten times over.

When Yuuri had filled the tin pails in the creek, along with his canteen, which was slung by a leather strap around his neck, he carefully carried them back to the shack. They seemed to gain in weight as he went along, but with some effort he managed it. After plonking them down inside, he took proper stock of his surroundings for the first time. The table in the middle of the room was a rough-hewn affair made of what looked like oak, with two similar chairs on unsteady legs. There was also a cast-iron stove, small but serviceable, its pipe running through a hole in the metal roof, and a store of wood and matches nearby. In a cupboard above were a scattering of tin pots, cups and plates, a few utensils, and – thank goodness – a few cans of food. Yuuri spotted more beans, plus some soup and canned fruit, and a bit of jerky and dried fruit in tins. The only other items in the room were the mattress upon which Victor lay, and a lantern on a shelf next to the door. There was a window in the wall to Victor’s side and another in the opposite wall. The gaps between some of the planks were almost big enough to qualify as windows themselves, Yuuri reckoned, and shafts of sunlight also peeked through between the corrugated roof and the sides of the shack. But the place was still sturdy enough not to blow down anytime soon, and there was enough here for a shepherd to feel that he’d arrived in luxury. Whatever provisions they used while they stayed, Yuuri made a mental note to replace when he was able, so that the next person to visit the hut would also have what he needed.

Checking every once in a while on Victor, Yuuri proceeded to light a fire. While the kindling caught and the logs took their time to glow hot enough for cooking, he found a pan in the cupboard, decanted some water into it from one of the pails, removed his bandanna – which, he suddenly remembered fondly, was actually Victor’s own – and brought it over to where Victor lay. Victor was half awake as Yuuri gently propped his head up and laved the water over the dried blood on the left side, which ran red into the pan.

“Sure you can’t remember how this happened to you?” Yuuri asked him while he worked.

“Hm, I’ve been trying. I remember…a storm, I think. I…I must’ve had an accident.” He sighed. “Oh, that feels nice. Give me some time and maybe it’ll come back to me.”

Yuuri smiled and decided he was finished when the bandanna ran clear in the water and Victor’s hair was blond again with no sign of blood, apart from the scab that remained. It looked like the wound had been caused by something blunt rather than a sharp instrument, which could bear out Victor’s surmise that he’d met with some kind of accident.

After tipping the water away and hanging Victor’s bandanna on the back of a chair to dry, Yuuri had smoked a quirly and waited until the stove was hot, then assembled the basics of a meal and started to cook. It looked now like the food was ready, and he grabbed some plates and forks and served it onto a couple of battered old tin plates from the cupboard. There was also a tin of peaches that he opened with his sheath knife, and he divided these between them as well. He poured some water into two tin cups, balanced them on the plates, and took everything over to the floor next to Victor, whose eyes were closed.

“Victor,” Yuuri said, giving his shoulder a gentle shake. “Do you still feel like eating something?”

“Hm? Ah, yes, I’m ready for some food.”

“Can you sit up?”

“I’ll try.” He did so slowly, wincing as he propped himself up against the wall behind him. “My head is killing me, though.”

“I’m not surprised. You got hit by something. Look, there’s water here too, if you need it.” Yuuri took a bite of his food, watching Victor carefully.

“Thank you, Yuuri. It’s sweet of you to do this.”

Yuuri snorted. “I whipped up some quick cowboy grub. It’s hardly fancy eating, but it’ll do.”

When they were done, Yuuri boiled some water in the biggest pot he could find and set some aside for coffee, using the rest to mix with some cooler water for washing the cooking things and utensils. It was at times like this when he actually appreciated the mediocre ranch fare he was now used to eating – at least someone else got paid to cook it and clean up afterward.

After he and Victor had each drunk a mug of coffee, Yuuri lit the lantern and placed it on the floor next to him as the sun closed in on the horizon. “How are you feeling now?”

Blue eyes blinked back at him. “I’m not thirsty anymore, and that’s more of a relief than I can say. My head still hurts, though. And…I’ve felt dizzy sometimes, but it comes and goes. I get the feeling it was worse, before. I’m sure I blacked out a few times too – that must be what happened to me when you found me.”

Yuuri’s stomach turned in agitation as he considered the list of symptoms. “Herb said maybe you got a concussion from whatever hit you. I’ve seen enough cowboys get hurt to know that those are some typical signs. But you can rest up now, and you’ll soon be feeling better.” He gave Victor what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

Victor reached out a hand and placed it on Yuuri’s cheek. “Thank you, Yuuri, for coming to find me. I’m still foggy on the details – maybe I’ll remember better in the morning. But if you hadn’t come, I don’t want to think what might’ve happened to me.”

Yuuri met his gaze and felt lost. He didn’t want to think what might’ve happened either. There was a reason why he’d decided after the blizzard that he wanted to hold on to Victor and never let him go.

It was because Yuuri loved him.


	20. Chapter 20

_I die of love for him, perfect in every way,_  
_Lost in the strains of wafting music._  
_My eyes are fixed upon his delightful body_  
_And I do not wonder at his beauty._  
_His waist is a sapling, his face a moon,_  
_And loveliness rolls off his rosy cheek_  
_I die of love for you, but keep this secret:_  
_The tie that binds us is an unbreakable rope._  
_How much time did your creation take, O angel?_    
_So what! All I want is to sing your praises._

_Abu Nuwas_

  

There was no doubt left in Yuuri’s mind. He’d felt like this for a while, but it was only now that he consciously acknowledged it. It seemed as simple and obvious as saying the sky was blue.

But it didn’t mean the situation between them had changed in any way, either. He wanted to put his own hand over Victor’s, which was still resting on his cheek. Instead, he continued to look into Victor’s eyes, feeling his heart soar – quietly inside, where it could not give itself away.

Eventually Victor’s hand dropped back down, and he sat in silence for a moment. Yuuri was about to suggest that they get some sleep, though it seemed a bit early for it, when Victor spoke up again. “This may sound like an odd thing to ask, but would you do me a favor? I guess I must look a wreck.” He gave a wry chuckle. “But the worst of it is, I haven’t shaved in days, and I hate stubble. My chin feels like sandpaper. You don’t by any chance have a razor with you, do you?”

Yuuri laughed. “Seriously? Um, yeah, it’s one of the things I automatically pack when I go on a journey. I don’t like stubble either. Japanese men aren’t supposed to grow facial hair for some reason. But…I don’t have a mirror or anything like that for you to use.”

“I don’t suppose…you could do it for me?”

Yuuri stared at him.

“Please?” He gave what Yuuri figured was meant to be an artfully charming and winning smile, if one underlined by exhaustion. It made him laugh again, but it still worked, because he couldn’t refuse.

“Give me a minute and I’ll see what I can dig out of my saddlebags.”

He soon returned with a leather pouch, which he placed on the floor next to the mattress. Then he filled a tin mug with water and brought that over as well. “This is going to be a little tricky by the light of a lantern. You sure?”

Victor nodded. “Maybe I can have a good wash tomorrow too, if I feel up to it, and I’ll feel like a new man.”

Yuuri smirked and removed his shaving kit from the bag, along with a small cloth. He dipped his brush in the water, then opened a wooden jar and swirled the brush over the hard soap inside. Victor closed his eyes and tipped his head back, and suddenly Yuuri couldn’t help but imagine him in this position in a different context. Fighting a burning urge to cover his jaw and neck with his lips rather than the brush, he lathered Victor’s face, then picked up his razor and carefully began to move it in patterns, wiping it occasionally on the cloth. This was hard enough to do to himself, and cuts were still inevitable at times; the last thing he wanted to do was hurt Victor.

“That’s lovely, Yuuri,” Victor said, almost in a purr. “You’re so gentle, I can hardly feel it. Have you ever thought about a career as a barber?”

Yuuri huffed a laugh. “Be quiet – you shouldn’t be moving your throat to talk while I’m doing this.”

Quelling his initial reaction, Yuuri soon found himself relaxing and enjoying the casual intimacy of the moment. In fact, taking care of Victor as he’d been doing all afternoon had given him a kind of warm feeling inside, like he was showing an aspect of his love that was nurturing and giving, rather than purely sexual. And that was an aspect he knew it was OK to be open about – necessary even, at the moment. In a way it was a relief too, as if he’d been able to turn a valve and let out some of the steam trapped inside of him.

By the time he finished, he was pleased to see that he hadn’t drawn a drop of blood, though he was less certain that he’d covered every patch of fine blond whiskers by the light of the lantern. He wiped the remaining shaving soap off of Victor’s face and neck with the cloth, which he dunked in the water and hung out to dry, then cleaned his kit and put it away. Closing the flaps of his saddlebags and rolling a quirly, he decided he’d have one more stab at helping Victor try to remember what had happened to Luchik, as he was concerned that the longer the horse was missing, the more likely it was that he’d disappeared for good.  

But Victor was now lying on the mattress, sound asleep. Yuuri smiled and found a light blanket in one of his saddlebags, which he placed over him. Afterward he sat in a chair in his earlier pose with his boots on the table and puffed thoughtfully at his cigarette, the orange ash at the end glowing in the deepening night. 

***

Yuuri groaned as he came slowly to consciousness. He was vaguely aware of just about every bone in his body aching – how had that not woken him up? – and realized that he’d fallen asleep in his chair, without even spreading his bedroll out. He gingerly lowered his legs onto the floor and straightened his back with another groan.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” came Victor’s voice, and Yuuri looked over to see him lying on the mattress, gazing back at him.

“Victor. How are you feeling?” Yuuri picked up his canteen and went over to him, kneeling down on the floor.

“I’m not sure yet,” he answered, carding a hand through his hair. “I’m hungry and thirsty, which I suppose is good, but I woke up feeling dizzy, and my stomach’s not in the best condition. Still, I think I’d like to try having some breakfast, if you’ve got anything to eat.” He took a long drink from the canteen.

“Sure. What about some beef jerky and biscuits? I nabbed some from the cook shack before I left the ranch and put them in a tin box. I don’t have any butter to put on them, though.”

Victor smiled at him. “In this place, that sounds like a meal fit for a king.”

They chewed the dry food and washed it down with plenty of water and coffee, then Yuuri asked Victor if he’d like to try to stand. This he did with an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders.

“I’m getting dizzier,” Victor said, “but I’m tired of lying on that mattress.”

“There’s a creek not too far away. Maybe if you’re able to ride on Biscuit with me for just a little spell, we can go out there and have a wash. Do you think you feel up to it?”

“I don’t know,” Victor said weakly.

“Let’s see if we can make it outside first, then. Come on.” Yuuri guided him slowly to the door, and they made their way out to where Biscuit was staked and grazing.

“Yuuri, I…I don’t feel so good. I – ” Victor suddenly bent over to the left, with his hands on his knees, and vomited up most of what he’d just eaten and drunk. Yuuri kept an arm around his back and remained watchful in case he found he could no longer stand. In the past Yuuri had done this for more drunken cowboys than he could count – and he suspected, but didn’t recall, that others had done it for him – but Victor wasn’t drunk, and Yuuri was alarmed that he was still this sick. He needed to keep down all the nourishment he could get at the moment.

“Shit,” Victor said when he was done. His cheeks had gone pink, but the rest of his face was washed out.

“I hate to tell you this, but I think you’re going to have to go back inside and lie down,” Yuuri said.

“I won’t argue with that.”

Continuing to support him as he walked, Yuuri guided him back to the mattress and helped ease him down. Victor propped himself up slightly and took a sip from Yuuri’s canteen. “My mouth feels like an army’s been camping out in it for a month,” he said miserably.

“I think you’d better rest until the dizziness goes away.”

“Yeah.” He sighed and lay down, and was soon dozing.

Yuuri made a trip to the creek while Victor slept, refilling the tin pails and once again scanning the region with his field glasses for signs of Luchik, to no avail. When he returned to the shack, he stoked the cooking fire before it went out completely, then decided some more firewood might be handy. But he had no axe, and trees didn’t exactly grow in abundance out here, though he remembered the stand of cedars nearby. He figured he had plenty of time to go out and gather anything that was lying on the ground, which he did, returning with a large bundle of sticks that he stacked next to the stove. He smoked a few quirlies and spend some time with Biscuit, making sure she was happy while she stood idle outside. By the afternoon the day had become quite warm, and a dry wind began to whip across the land from the west, tossing up dirt and grit.

When Victor finally awoke from his long sleep, he seemed more alert and said the dizziness and nausea had gone, for now at least. He begged Yuuri to take him to the creek, where he could clean up, before he lost every last ounce of self-respect he possessed. Yuuri had been aware that Victor didn’t exactly smell of the customary roses, but that wasn’t surprising given what he’d been through, and he was used to worse in the bunkhouse. It made no difference to him anyway. He was Victor, and he was alive.

A thought seemed to suddenly strike Victor as he sat against the wall, sipping from the canteen and presumably mustering his strength for another try at standing and going outside. He put the container down and stared ahead with haunted eyes. “Luchik’s gone. He’s gone – isn’t he?” He quickly turned his head to Yuuri, who was sitting on a chair near the table.

Yuuri came and sat on the floor next to him with a sinking feeling in his stomach. “I haven’t seen any sign of him,” he said quietly. “I’ve gone out to look for him several times. Actually, I was hoping you could tell me what happened.”

“I remember now. He’s gone,” Victor repeated, tears beginning to trail down his cheeks.

Yuuri wasn’t sure what to say. Something tightened in his chest as he watched Victor become increasingly agitated, and he felt like crying himself. Instinctively, he reached an arm out to wrap around Victor’s shoulder, but Victor pulled away and leaned his head against the wall, looking down.

“I was here for several days. I kept blacking out. There was no more water left, and I didn’t know where to get any more. Luchik was gone. _I thought I was going to die._ ” He placed a hand on his forehead under his bangs and a deep sigh wracked him as he tried to regain some calm. “And I stink.” He said nothing further, but closed his eyes in dejection.

“Victor,” Yuuri said gently, choosing his words carefully. Victor looked at him, and there was a wariness in his eyes that Yuuri had never seen there before – as well as what he thought might be embarrassment. “It must have been horrible going through all that. But I’m so glad I found you, and you’re OK. You have no idea how worried I was.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “You said I wouldn’t lose you.” Hoping he wouldn’t be rebuffed a second time, he reached his arm out again and leaned in for a hug. To his gratification, Victor leaned toward him as well, and encircled him with both his arms, burying his head against his chest and speaking his name in a muffled voice.

Yuuri kissed the top of his head, not giving a damn at the moment about his resolve not to do such things. “You promised,” he said. “I’m going to keep holding you to that.”

Victor drew away slightly and gave him a rueful tilt of the mouth that was almost a grin. “I’m not at my best right now.” He sniffed.

“No,” Yuuri agreed simply, stroking his hair. “But that’s OK. I’m going to take care of you. Why don’t we see if you can get on Biscuit this time?”          

***

Yuuri leaned back against the riverbank, luxuriating in the cool water flowing gently against his bare body in the heat of the day. The water was fairly deep here, rising to his navel, and cut into the sloping earth to form a natural bank. He’d loaned Victor his toothbrush and jar of toothpaste to use while he himself had a good scrub, then gave Victor his soap afterward. Victor was splashing several feet away from him, quiet for the most part, while Yuuri discreetly stared into the distance at the grass and trees waving in the wind.

With some effort, Victor had managed to climb onto Biscuit, and Yuuri mounted in front of him. The dizziness and nausea had still not made a reappearance, though Victor was clearly feeling weak. As Biscuit started out at an easy walk, Victor had silently wrapped his arms loosely around Yuuri’s waist, and soon his head had dipped wearily against the back of Yuuri’s neck. In other circumstances Yuuri would have found it distracting, but instead he continued to be suffused with the same warm feeling that seemed to stem from nurturing someone he loved. When he’d realized that this feeling was just about as foreign to him as the sexual desire he’d been fighting off, he wondered how he’d lived this long without _truly_ living, and felt a little ashamed. He didn’t think anyone would ever call him selfish in the sense of actually being greedy, but maybe there was a different kind of selfishness that involved being so wrapped up in yourself that it never even occurred to you to reach out to others.

When they’d arrived at the creek, just the fact of being outside near water seemed to soothe Victor, and some of the exhaustion lifted from his frame. As they both removed their clothing – Yuuri determined not to look directly at Victor in the process – and then entered the water, Victor began to tell Yuuri what he could now remember about what had happened to him. It was a straightforward narrative delivered in a quiet, flat voice that was belied by the tiny quiver of emotion underneath, and they both wet their heads and lazily paddled their limbs under the water while Victor spoke and Yuuri listened, adding the occasional sympathetic interjection.

The trip had gone as planned, including his visit to the ranch, and Victor had been traveling back to the Circle C on Luchik. He had camped out on Sunday night and expected to return late Monday afternoon, when the storm hit. There had been no obvious place of shelter, so he had urged Luchik on through the driving rain and hail. The conditions quickly deteriorated, and he was concerned that the growing size of the ice might injure himself or his horse; but worse than this was the deepening water that was rushing with increasing force beneath them. They were on a low part of the road, and soon the hard-packed earth could not be distinguished underfoot. As the water continued to carve its way down the bluffs nearby, it became a torrent that washed across the land with enough force to knock over a horse and rider. Victor felt he had no choice but to leave the road; and as the higher ground appeared to be to the north, he headed Luchik in that direction.

At some point Luchik struggled to climb a muddy slope away from the flood waters and slipped, throwing Victor off. He recalled a shattering pain on the left side of his head, and the last thing he remembered seeing was Luchik standing next to him uncertainly. When he awakened, the sky was growing dim but there was still daylight to see by. Mud and grit had been washed across the land, but the waters had receded. Luchik was nowhere to be seen; and when Victor stood up, a wave of dizziness had assailed him and he’d almost collapsed.

He wandered for a while in a daze, hoping he would find Luchik or shelter, or the road, or help of some kind, and eventually came upon the hut. It felt like a godsend at first, but he soon got through the water that he’d found inside the lidded tin pails, and without any utensils he was unable to open the cans of food he found in the cupboard. He remembered discovering some jerky and dried fruit, which he rationed. The worst problems, however, were that the water was gone, he wasn’t sure where the nearest source was where he could get more, and he knew he was blacking out for long spells of time, as he would suddenly find himself lying on the floor with the sun in a different part of the sky, if it was still up at all. The longer he went without water, the worse his condition got; and he could no longer eat the dried food with a parched mouth and throat. Luchik never came back, and he had little hope left that help would arrive in time. He guessed that was when Yuuri had turned up with Herb and Toby.

“I thought I was dreaming or hallucinating when I woke up and heard your voice,” Victor had finished in the same low, quiet tone. “It…didn’t seem possible after everything…” His blue eyes found Yuuri’s, and the hint of wariness from before was still there, almost as if he expected Yuuri to be disgusted by what he’d found here and turn around and go back to the ranch without him.

Unsure of how best to respond to this – did he really think he would ever do such a thing? – Yuuri had reached for his toothbrush and toothpaste and soap, encouraging Victor to take his time and have a long, relaxing wash. He was struck by how different this was from the first time they had bathed together in the Gypsum River that spring; how different Victor was. The confident, charming persona Yuuri was used to seeing had been stripped away by the ravages of the past several days; and in its place was a man who was sad and vulnerable, who had lost his most important possession, come close to death and been understandably frightened by it, and was clearly now feeling some embarrassment at the situation Yuuri had found him in. It felt to Yuuri like he’d been entrusted with something precious. Looking at him now, as Victor placed the soap on the earthen ledge and washed the lather off by pouring water over himself from his hands, Yuuri was struck as he had been in the past by the beauty of the man in front of him, and wanted to wrap his arms around him, melt into him, take away the hurt and bring back to him everything he’d lost.

Victor seemed to read something of this in his eyes. “I’m grateful for everything you’ve done, Yuuri. You’ve been so good to me. I…don’t know what I did to deserve it.”

Yuuri huffed in disbelief at his words. “Why should you have to do anything to deserve it? You’re Victor. That’s reason enough.” He gave him a small smile. “Just be yourself. That’s all I’d ever want.”

Victor gave him a tight-lipped smile, but his eyes were soft and fond. They held Yuuri’s for a moment, and then he sighed and shook his head as he turned to the side. “Maybe we’d better get out.” His voice trailed away, but Yuuri just caught, “You’re too distracting.”

It was what Clarissa was fond of telling him, Yuuri thought. But that was different. Wasn’t it? And suddenly Chris’s words to him just before he’d left the ranch came back to mind. Had Victor confided in him after all; maybe told him he had feelings for Yuuri? The little voice inside of him that had been cautioning him to temper his actions – because the slightest doubt he still had that Victor wasn’t interested in him _in that way_ meant that he couldn’t take a risk – was strangely quiet.

Yuuri had reattached his saddlebags to Biscuit; they held his blankets, which he now pulled out so that they could dry off, as well as a change of clothes. While Yuuri donned his cowboy togs, Victor pulled on Yuuri’s tan pants and cotton shirt that he wore for gymnastics. The pants were a little loose on Victor around the waist, the bottoms rode too high up his legs, and the shirt was tight on him and exposed part of his stomach; the latter was something Yuuri struggled not to stare at. He licked his lips and grabbed his dirty clothes, while Victor did the same, and they spent the next little while getting their things clean before packing them in Yuuri’s saddlebags to take them back to the hut to dry. Once there, with clothes and blankets hanging from the furniture and any other places they could be draped, Victor lay back down on the mattress while Yuuri prepared another simple dinner after stoking the embers in the stove. It was nothing more impressive than pork and beans again, with some dried fruit he’d found in the cupboard; but it was filling enough, and he was relieved to see that Victor now had more of an appetite.

They sipped coffee together afterwards, then Yuuri went outside to smoke a quirly and give Biscuit a drink of water from his upturned Stetson. Victor dozed for a while longer, and Yuuri sat down in a chair with his glasses on and began to read a dusty old book he’d been surprised to find tucked in a corner at the back of the cupboard: _The Scarlet Letter_ by Nathaniel Hawthorne. Gradually pulled into the story until he was riveted, he barely noticed the sun going down until it was impossible to see the print anymore, at which point he lit the lantern and placed it on the table next to him, leaning back in the chair once more and picking the book back up. What a strange and wonderful thing to find in a place like this, he thought.  

***

“I don’t think I’ve ever slept so much in my life as I have these past few days,” came Victor’s voice from the mattress. It sounded stronger now, Yuuri was pleased to note as he put the book down on the table.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked, standing. “Are you thirsty?”

“Hm. You don’t have anything more…medicinal than water or coffee, do you? I think I could do with something like that right now.”

“Um, sure.” Yuuri dug in his saddlebags on the floor and pulled out his leather-covered hip flask, then brought it over along with the lamp and sat down next to Victor, handing the flask over. Victor took a sip and winced.

“It’s not the best stuff – I haven’t been around my father’s whiskey store anymore to be able to raid it.”

“No, it’ll do fine. Thank you.” He sipped some more. “You could strip paint with this.”

Yuuri laughed as Victor handed him the flask and he took a sip himself, feeling the burn down his throat. “I’m not sure this is the best thing for a man with a concussion to be drinking, you know.”

“Concussion be damned. I feel better already.” They continued to pass the flask between them, then Victor put it back down, looking thoughtful. “No one here ever has vodka, though. I know I keep complaining, but I can’t tell you how frustrating that is.”

Yuuri looked at him. He was careful about prying into other men’s private lives; maybe it was a caution born of growing up on a ranch, where people more often wanted to keep themselves to themselves and resented anyone nosing into their affairs. But he had enjoyed getting to know people like Chris and Walt better, and he would dearly love to know more about Victor too, if he were willing to talk. Well, now seemed to be a good time.

“Do you miss it? Russia?” Yuuri asked him.

Victor appeared to be thinking of a response. Then he said, “Sometimes. Things there got complicated.”

“Complicated? How?”

He eyed Yuuri. “You really want to know?”

“If you want to talk about it.”

After a pause, Victor sighed. “OK.” He took a sip of whiskey and began a long tale that was as unique, Yuuri thought, as the man who told it in the orange light of the lamp, which flickered across his face and shimmered dimly in his fair hair.

Victor was the only child of a family that sounded like they had been well-to-do, with a large house and servants. His father was a physician – “ironically”, he said, though Yuuri didn’t understand what he meant by this at first. His mother had been a dancer, though those days had been long past her ever since Victor could remember. They had sent him to boarding school when he was six, and after that he only saw them in the summers. At school Victor had studied English, French and ballet, among other things. There were stables nearby, and he was enchanted by the graceful horses and the talented people who rode them.

Yuuri’s heart leaped when Victor told him he’d learned ballet. Of course he had. He hadn’t just watched Yuuri practicing in the stable; he knew it by heart himself, and it was intrinsic to his every move, even if the influence was usually subtle. But at the same time he wanted to hug the little boy he pictured as Victor, so delicately beautiful and talented, whose parents did not care to have him around for most of the year, and who’d had no more knowledge of horses than the average person until one day when he walked past the Cossack stables and his heart had been captured. Yuuri wondered if it had been anything like the way he himself had felt when, for the first time, he’d watched Victor perform at the Circle C.

After a few more sips of whiskey, Victor carried on. When he was fourteen, he’d decided to leave school and go work at the stables; though he would start off doing basic tasks, they would eventually train him in trick riding, which his ballet classes had prepared him well for. His parents had been livid at his decision, as they had intended for him to study at a university, but in the end they were powerless to stop him. As he mastered the arts of natural horse training and trick riding, however, he attracted the attention of the Cossack army. He enjoyed training their horses and riders, but they wanted him to actually join up, and he didn’t want to be in the military. Yakov did a good job of fending them off, he said, but it became more and more difficult for him to do as Victor’s reputation spread across the region.

“I didn’t want to kill people,” he said. “The army wasn’t for me.”

When he was twenty-two, his parents both died in an outbreak of cholera. “Physician, heal thyself,” Victor muttered darkly under his breath, sipping more whiskey. Yuuri’s heart went out to him as he continued. He was present when they both passed away, he said; he’d held his mother’s hand. “I decided at that point that it was time for a drastic change. I wanted to go someplace completely new and start again. Someplace where I could put my skills to use. I chose here because it’s not that different from where I grew up – the mountains, the land.” He paused. “I couldn’t decide if it was better or worse here than in Russia. That is, until I met you.” He sipped more whiskey and smiled. “Yes, I’ve decided now. Yuuri Taylor makes everything here better. As long as you’re careful not to get frozen in a blizzard or drowned in a flood.”

He laughed, and Yuuri began to suspect he’d probably had more to drink than was advisable. But Victor’s words sent more heat through him than the abrasive whiskey that seemed to have run out, he noticed as he picked up the empty flask. His own head was buzzing pleasantly, but he wasn’t drunk, and he was still responsible for his actions, he told himself. “It’s late. I think maybe it’s time to turn in,” he suggested.

“Where are you going to sleep? Not in the chair again, are you?”

“Uh, no. I’d better get my bedroll out.” Yuuri stood, picking up his empty hip flask.

“Yuuri…”

When Victor didn’t finish his sentence, Yuuri looked back down at him. “Yeah?”

“I, um…was wondering if you’d consider sleeping over here.” He patted the mattress. “There’s plenty of room.”

Yuuri’s heart climbed into his throat. He looked into Victor’s eyes for some indication of flirtiness or teasing but saw none; just a sincere and almost frightened intensity that reminded him of their earlier conversation at the creek.

“It would…help. A lot. I’m sorry to have to ask, but…please?”

That did it every time; Victor seemed to know how to wheedle what he wanted from Yuuri when he pleaded so sweetly. With a sigh, Yuuri replaced the hip flask in his saddlebags, then returned and lay down on the mattress next to Victor, who shifted further over toward the wall. It felt like there was a generous amount of hay inside, though goodness knew what state it was in or how long it had been here. Still, it would be comfortable enough to sleep on. The question was, just how much sleep was he going to get? Did Victor know what he was doing to Yuuri, or was this the whiskey talking?

“That’s better,” Victor said softly, lacing his fingers through Yuuri’s own as they lay side by side. “You still have your glasses on,” he added in an amused tone.

“Oh.” Yuuri smiled sheepishly and removed them, then tucked them into the usual pocket in his vest, which tossed to the side where it would not be rolled or stepped on. He couldn’t find any more words.

“Good night, Yuuri.”

Yuuri paused, then replied, “Good night, Victor.” He reached over and turned the wick of the lantern down so that the flame dimmed and went out, then lay still in the dark, listening to the steady breathing at his side, willing himself to focus on that and allowing no distracting images into his mind. It seemed to work, because somehow he drifted off and knew nothing more until the morning.


	21. Chapter 21

The first thing Yuuri became aware of was that he seemed to have gained extra arms and legs overnight, because it felt like he had too many, and they were all in a tangle. As he gradually regained consciousness, it dawned on him that he could move two arms and two legs, while the extra ones were just lying there, still and warm. He forced his eyes open and saw that the limbs were actually Victor’s. The man himself was sleeping just inches away.

_What?_ Wait – Yuuri remembered now: Victor asking him to sleep here, sounding like a child who was afraid of the dark. They must have turned and shifted closer together in the night, and it was Victor’s left arm and leg that were slung over Yuuri’s own. He lay there for a moment, savoring the feel of it. But it also felt wrong, as if he were taking advantage somehow. Victor had drunk a fair amount of strong whiskey the night before, and Yuuri wasn’t sure how he would feel about the situation when he woke up. Especially not if Yuuri did any of the things he longed to do right now, with Victor so close.  

Slowly and gently, he disentangled himself and stood up without waking Victor. He raked his fingers through his hair, then glugged some water from his canteen and set about stoking the cooking fire. While the new logs he’d tossed on were catching, he sat in a chair and smoked a quirly, contemplating reading some more in the book he’d found.

“Oh my head,” Victor groaned. Yuuri looked over and saw him sitting up, rubbing at his temples.

“Well that could be a couple of things – the concussion, or the whiskey you drank last night. Here.” He crushed out his cigarette, picked up his canteen, refilled it from one of the tin pails, and handed it to him. “Have a good drink; maybe it’ll help. Are you OK besides your head hurting?”

“A little dizzy again.” He sighed. “But I can’t stay cooped up in here today. I need to get out. I want to see if I can find Luchik.”

“Victor,” Yuuri said in alarm, “you’re still weak. Remember how sick you were yesterday morning. And I told you I’ve been on the lookout for him. I really wish I had better news, but there’s been no sign of him.”

Victor crossed his arms over his chest, a petulant expression on his face. “I don’t think I can cope with any more bacon or beans either; I’ve had enough for a lifetime.”

Yuuri raised his eyebrows. Victor was certainly prickly this morning – though thinking about it, he could understand why. And he should have been more assertive about not letting him have so much whiskey. “I tell you what,” he said brightly, suddenly struck by an idea. “Let’s scrounge up what we can for breakfast, and while you take your time here I’ll go out and see what I can hunt for some fresh meat; I’ve got my gun with me. Then maybe later, if you’re feeling up to it, we could do some gathering. I’ve spotted some things around the creek that are edible, and they’d make a change from the same old food every day.”

Victor just looked at him, but his expression was warmer now, and Yuuri could tell he liked the suggestion. “So what have we got for breakfast?”

“If you don’t want bacon and beans – and to be honest, I’m not sure I do either – we’ve got some canned fruit and soup, a little jerky and dried fruit, and there’s some hardtack in my saddlebags. Should I see what I can rustle up?”

Now Victor gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Yuuri. That sounds good. I’m sorry I’m such a grouch this morning. Especially after the lovely way I fell asleep last night.”

Yuuri felt a flush of pink in his cheeks. “It’s OK.” 

***

Yuuri spent several hours hunting while mounted on Biscuit. He wasn’t the most accomplished person at this, usually only picking up a gun out of necessity, and only hunting for the same reason. It was one of the paradoxes of life, he’d decided some time ago, that while you could love a pet, appreciate the work animals did for you, and respect them as you observed them in their habitat, you also had to kill them and eat them and use their hides and horns and so on if you actually wanted to survive. This was foremost in his mind as he eventually tracked down a couple of hares and used a few more bullets than he’d intended, but finally killed them and draped them across the back of his saddle. When he brought them back to the hut, he discovered that Victor had found _The Scarlet Letter_ and was reading it at the table. He was wearing his own clothes now, having changed out of the ones he’d borrowed from Yuuri.

“This is good,” Victor said as he put the book down. “Though I wonder why someone would leave it in a place like this.”

“No idea.” Yuuri slung the hares on the table. “How are you feeling? Do you think you’re up to a trip out to the creek?”

“Did you just catch those?” Victor asked, looking at the hares.

“Huh? Oh, um, yeah. I thought I could skin them later. So – a ride out on Biscuit?”

“I’d like that. I’m starting to feel a lot better now. Must be because someone’s been taking such good care of me.”

Yuuri felt the pink spread across his cheeks again.           

***

Out at the creek, they gathered some of the edible plants Yuuri had spotted and put them in leather bags. There was miner’s lettuce, and they also found some raspberry brambles huddled along the water. When they were finished, they had a meal of hardtack, jerky and dried fruit, then washed all of their clothes and towels, which they draped over nearby bushes to dry while they bathed. Yuuri once again avoided looking at Victor, though he harbored a growing fear that the man was going to end up thinking him either rude or prudish. However, when Victor again asked Yuuri to give him a shave, Yuuri felt like taking a little gentle revenge for Victor’s sour mood earlier in the morning and agreed to do it only if Victor did it for him in return.

“I told you I didn’t bring a mirror with me,” Yuuri said, “so I can’t see what I’m missing. You’d do a much better job than I would.” He wasn’t sure this was a good idea, but it was satisfying to be the one doing the wheedling for once. Taken aback, Victor had finally agreed, and they took turns while standing in the creek against the earthen bank. Yuuri was used to dealing with the sweet torture of being close to Victor like this – though it never got any easier; and he managed to keep a steady hand. Victor, however, seemed disconcerted, and Yuuri thought he even saw his hand shaking slightly at one point; though he knew Victor still wasn’t well, and felt a stab of guilt for asking him to do this in the first place.

When they were done, they both quietly got dressed and returned to the hut. Victor’s arms around his waist while they rode were becoming more of a distraction, Yuuri decided; he’d felt a coil of tension building up in his abdomen all afternoon, and wasn’t sure what he could do to try to cool down and relax. At times like this, it was tempting to wish he could turn back time and resume a relationship with Victor that wasn’t so complicated.

He took the hares outside when they arrived at the hut and sat down on a log with his sheath knife to prepare them when Victor joined him, sitting down next to him. “You’ve done all the work these past few days,” he said. “I’d like to help, if I can. Do you know if there’s a spare knife I can use?”

It heartened Yuuri that there was no tone of despondence in Victor’s voice now. He knew Victor had been devastated by the loss of Luchik, as well as all of the possessions that the horse had carried for him. It was more than a mere annoyance for a cowboy to find himself without the simplest of implements, not even a knife, out in the middle of nowhere.

“I think I’ve got one in my saddlebags. Let me check.” Yuuri got up, rummaged around, and finally found the spare he usually carried. “It probably needs honing, but I think it should do OK.”

“Thanks,” Victor said, taking it. “Let’s do one each.”

Yuuri nodded, and they skinned and gutted the hares, then went back into the hut, where Yuuri cut the meat into pieces and placed it in a cooking pot along with some water and dried herbs and salt from his cooking supplies. After stoking the fire, he left the pot to sit on the hob. “That’s probably going to take a while to cook,” he said. “The fire died right down again. I don’t know how women manage all this stuff, you know. There’s so much to remember and so much to do.”

Victor laughed. “I bet they’d be happy to hear you say so.”

“I’d better go gather some more wood. How are you feeling?”

“You keep asking me that.”

“Well, I was worried about you.” He paused. “I still am.”

Victor sat down in a chair and picked up _The Scarlet Letter._ “I’m feeling much more my old self this afternoon. In fact, I don’t think it’ll be long before I can ride back to the ranch with you.”

“I’m…pleased to hear it,” Yuuri said, knowing he didn’t sound very pleased. “See you in a little while.”

While he scouted around for sticks of the right size, Yuuri puzzled over his reaction to Victor’s words. He was glad that Victor was on the mend; of course he was. What bothered him, he realized, was the thought of leaving this place. Sure, it was frustrating that their limited supplies were dwindling, and there wasn’t much for them to do as the days went by; it was certainly different from the ranch, where they were almost always busy with something, and were used to their meals being catered for them. But it also made a change from the lack of privacy. It felt in a way as if time had slowed down for them, and they were living in a bubble outside of the daily goings-on of other folk. The thought of popping that bubble and returning to ordinary life wasn’t appealing for Yuuri at the moment, and he tried to cheer himself up by thinking about cooked dinners and trick riding and seeing Chris and Walt, and all the other things he could look forward to when they returned. None of it overshadowed the time he was spending here with Victor – but well, nothing could last forever, he told himself.

Back at the hut, he laid his hat and vest on top of his saddlebags, then smoked a couple of cigarettes while he waited for the hares to stew. Victor read the book for a while, then decided to have a nap, draping his own vest over the back of a chair. Yuuri took a turn with the book while Victor dozed. Finally he judged that the hares were sufficiently stewed and tender and that it was time for a late dinner. He gently woke Victor, and they ladled some into bowls, placing the miner’s lettuce and raspberries on tin plates. It was basic fare, but it made a change from what they were used to. Victor insisted on helping Yuuri do the dishes when they were done, for which Yuuri was quietly grateful. Afterward, they sipped coffee together, then Victor propped himself up on the mattress while Yuuri stood in the doorway and smoked a last cigarette. The mountains weren’t visible from here, but the sky seemed that much bigger because of it, and it was ablaze tonight with vivid pinks and oranges and yellows that looked like they’d spilled off a painter’s palette and pooled in layers that subtly blended and merged. The calm and beauty of the scene seemed to steal right into Yuuri’s heart, and filled him with a sense of serenity he rarely knew.

When he’d finished his cigarette, he went back inside and sat down on the floor in his customary spot next to Victor. “How are you – ” he began, then caught himself and laughed. “You seem to be feeling a lot better.”

“I think I am. I haven’t felt dizzy for a while now.” He sighed and looked at Yuuri. “I know I’ve already said this, but thank you for taking care of me. More than that – you spoil me, you know,” he added with a smile.

“Well it doesn’t hurt to be spoiled once in a while, does it?” Yuuri replied, giving him a soft smile in return.

After a moment, Victor glanced down. “Look – I’m still wearing your bandanna.” He hooked a forefinger into the front of it. “We’re still wearing each other’s. Maybe they brought us good luck again, what do you think?”

A shiver went down Yuuri’s spine. “Maybe. I needed some luck to find you, that’s for sure.”

“We ought to swap – then we can do this again sometime.”

“OK, if you want,” Yuuri laughed, untying the red and white bandanna, which he placed on the floor next to him. Victor began to do the same, but had tied Yuuri’s navy-blue one more tightly around himself, and was struggling to get it undone. “Here,” Yuuri said helpfully, scooting closer to Victor and reaching around the back of his neck to undo the cloth.

_Oh._ He’d barely begun to work the knot loose before he stopped and let his hands lie still where they were. His face was inches from Victor’s. He could feel his breaths quicken as his blood began to race, and he knew there was no hiding any of it, not when they were like this. What was more, he found that he didn’t want to. He _liked_ being this close to Victor. And he wanted to be closer still. With no further thought, Yuuri closed his eyes, leaned forward – heard a small gasp from Victor – and pressed his lips to his.

It was brief, just a touch and a bit of pressure. Victor’s lips were warm and soft. He’d wanted this so much, and it felt so _right_. But how would Victor react? Yuuri drew away slightly and opened his eyes, looking at him with a reflection of the elation and uncertainty that were swirling inside of him.               

He saw surprise on Victor’s face, but he seemed pleased as well. His eyes had widened, their blue deepening along with the lilac and violet hues of the sky filtering through the window; and they regarded Yuuri steadily as Victor sat quietly with his lips slightly parted. Then he said in a whisper, “Yuuri, kiss me again… _please._ ”

Yuuri felt as if a fuse had suddenly been lit inside of him. A spark of it leaped into his eyes before they were hooded again, and with a trace of a smile, he leaned in and did what Victor had requested, drunk with the thrill of knowing that he wasn’t going to lose him after all; that he wanted this too. It was hard to believe, but somehow that was the truth of it. He sighed into the kiss as he wrapped his arms more fully around Victor’s neck, pulling him closer, his thoughts a jumble of confetti that blew inconsequentially away into the sunset…        

***

…and all Victor could think was, _At last._

He slipped an arm around Yuuri’s back and stroked Yuuri’s cheekbone with his thumb as he met the rhythm of his mouth.

_At last_ his Yuuri was here in his arms, pressed against him, their lips joined in a soft dance. And oh, they both knew how to dance.

He’d felt so sure, after Yuuri had come on to him at the hoedown – and that was exactly what he had done; there could be no other way to describe it – that they were going to have an interesting time together. As if they hadn’t already, of course; Victor had begun to think that he might just have fallen for this gorgeous man the first time he’d seen him, there in the saloon, defending his dignity against someone who wasn’t fit to wipe his boots. And the way Yuuri had reacted to watching him ride Luchik that day at the Circle C…Victor had seldom felt appreciated, let alone _understood_ , by anyone for his horsemanship in quite that way – and to his unending delight, Yuuri even seemed to share the same passion for it.

So when Yuuri did not reappear after the hoedown, Victor had been confused; and when he’d tried to find out himself if anything was wrong, he’d come up against one wall after another – including Yuuri’s father, or adoptive father or guardian presumably, who had barely been willing to give him the time of day. He’d gone back to the Circle C imagining with a heavy heart what it must have been like for Yuuri to be raised by such a cold, taciturn person.

But when Yuuri had shown the true extent of his stoutheartedness and courage by riding into the fire in that canyon to save Chris and Phichit, Victor knew he had to have him nearby, and offered him the apprenticeship. The eagerness with which he had accepted it had given Victor high hopes once again that they might have all the joy of that, and more. But while he dealt with the unexpected frustration of longing for something he wasn’t sure Yuuri wanted anymore, if he ever really had in the first place, Victor had discovered at the same time that something was blossoming between them – something beyond the physical, and stronger, and deeper. And maybe, just maybe, he could be content with that.

Though having Yuuri see him at his lowest ebb these past several days had put it to the test. He’d thought it had been the ultimate indignity to feel compelled to jack off in the outhouse – not once, but on numerous occasions – because that was the only strategy he could come up with for coping with what Yuuri was doing to him. Well, that was nothing compared to what had happened to him here. Victor wasn’t sure that after the exterior he habitually presented to the world had been stripped away, and the rather rougher and uglier beating heart underneath was exposed with nothing left to conceal or defend it, that Yuuri wouldn’t decide he wasn’t so fond of the real Victor Nikiforov, end his apprenticeship, and return to the Rafter T. It had surprised him to find that Yuuri had genuinely seemed not to be put off by it, but in fact had been even warmer than usual in his attitude toward him, and told him he _wanted_ Victor to just be himself – something Victor had paradoxically found difficult to deal with, given the fact that he couldn’t simply embrace him then and there and proceed to make mad, passionate love to him. Victor had been shamelessly flirting with him all along in the hope that he might give in eventually, but that was the key point: it had to be Yuuri who made the final decision in that respect, or Victor knew he would always wonder if he had coerced him into doing something he’d never really felt certain about.

These thoughts flashed across Victor’s mind in a matter of moments, while he was still anchored to the present as well, and the very pleasurable feel of Yuuri’s mouth against his. Part of him still couldn’t believe this was finally happening – while another part wanted to dance and sing and shout about how _Yuuri was finally kissing him_. He smiled into the kiss, and Yuuri swiped his tongue across Victor’s bottom lip. With a contented hum, Victor gave him access, but Yuuri hesitated, apparently unsure of what to do next – so Victor touched the tip of his tongue with his own, then playfully swirled around the edge of it, and was met with a moan that shot a pulse of heat through his core. Yuuri clutched at Victor’s shoulder with one hand and raked the other through his hair to cradle the back of his head, while pressing his body and his lips more urgently against him.

Now Victor felt a moan pull itself from his own throat. He broke away slightly, feathering kisses up Yuuri’s cheek while stroking his hair at the side. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked, feeling an obligation to make certain. “We don’t have to be in any hurry.” _I’d like to be – I’ve been craving your touch for months. But that’s not what’s important here._ He kissed Yuuri’s temple, the edge of his eyebrow, his forehead.

“Victor,” Yuuri said breathily – and Victor wanted to hear him say his name like that over and over, “ _please_.” He didn’t seem to have anything to add to this, but he didn’t need to.

“OK. Come here, baby.” He indicated his lap as he sat back on the mattress against the wall. Yuuri shifted but seemed unsure of how to position himself. “Straddle me. Get nice and close,” Victor invited him, giving him as gentle and unthreatening a look as possible. He saw understanding dawn in Yuuri’s eyes, as well as heated excitement, as he obliged. Victor felt like he was in heaven as Yuuri’s weight settled on him, and they wrapped their arms around each other and shared a long, lingering kiss. This time Victor licked into Yuuri’s mouth, and their tongues began a slow dance that soon had them both making small whimpers and moans.

“Can I?” Victor asked, running his fingers over the buttons on Yuuri’s blue checked shirt. Yuuri nodded and undid the cuffs himself while Victor opened the front. Then Yuuri shrugged the material off, and Victor placed a hand on his chest. “You’re so beautiful. I’ve always thought so.” He ran his fingers delicately along Yuuri’s pecs; a nipple – eliciting a gasp; his abdomen. “I’m so lucky to get to see you like this.”

Yuuri swallowed. “I – I’m not – ”

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” Victor muttered, leaning forward and running his lips across Yuuri’s collarbone. Yuuri shuddered out a breath and Victor decided he liked the sound, so he planted a slow kiss in the hollow of his neck – oh, Yuuri definitely liked that – and worked his way up to his ear, giving the lobe a gentle bite and flick of tongue.

Yuuri gasped, arching his back. Then, with a determined look, he tilted forward and gave Victor a hard, deep kiss while undoing the bandanna that had started everything off. Breaking away to toss it aside, Yuuri made quick work of Victor’s shirt buttons, and that was soon on the floor too. Then his lips were moving from Victor’s chin across his jaw while his hands ran down Victor’s sides and lingered low on his waist. “The number of times I’ve wanted to touch you like this while we’ve been exercising,” Yuuri murmured against his neck, and the heat of his breath and the vibration of his voice sent a ripple of desire through him.

“Tell me about it,” Victor chuckled huskily. So Yuuri _had_ wanted this for a while too. He wondered just how long they’d been skirting around each other. Then he stopped wondering anything at all as Yuuri shifted and worked his way down Victor’s chest, exploring the bare muscular curves and planes with his mouth and hands, making little gasps and hums as if he were savoring every touch and stroke. Victor moved away from the wall so that he was lying more than sitting now, propped up on his elbows. He ran his fingers in a caress through soft, dark hair as Yuuri moved down to his abdomen. There he paused, then flicked the tip of his tongue around Victor’s belly button, while his hand strayed to the bulge in Victor’s pants and palmed it.

A loud gasp escaped Victor as he bucked his hips. It seemed to unsettle Yuuri, though that wasn’t what he’d intended; somehow he simply had not expected him to be so bold. “Was that not good?” Yuuri asked uncertainly, rocking back onto his shins.

“It was _very_ good,” Victor reassured him with a gentle grin. Yuuri looked relieved. “You’re so sexy. Come on back here.” He sat against the wall again, and Yuuri settled back onto him, his lovely brown eyes looking searchingly into his own as he draped his arms over Victor’s shoulders. Victor tilted his head forward slowly until their foreheads were touching, and he caressed Yuuri’s jaw with the backs of his fingers. “Let me know if there’s anything I do that you don’t like,” he whispered. “OK?”

“OK,” Yuuri agreed quietly.

Victor smiled into a kiss and found Yuuri’s tongue with a slow slide of his own, placed a hand on either side of Yuuri’s hips to hold him firm, and thrust up against him. Yuuri shuddered and gasped, his eyes wide. Victor drank it all in, feeling the sweet tension build inside of him. “Too much?” he asked softly.

“N-no,” Yuuri breathed. “Do it again.”

Victor happily obliged, and they resumed their kisses as he set a rhythm with his hips. It wasn’t easy underneath Yuuri like this, but it felt wonderful, and Yuuri was making the most delectable little noises. “Would you like to try?” Victor asked.

Yuuri looked at him. “You mean…” He moved slightly, apparently taking a moment to think. “…like this?” He grinded his hips down onto Victor’s. God, he was hard. They both were. Victor swore in Russian.

“Yeah, just like that,” he said, his fingers digging into Yuuri’s waist.

They resumed their rhythm, abandoning long kisses as their breaths turned into pants, nuzzling each other’s faces, their hands roaming freely. Victor reached out and squeezed Yuuri’s ass, pulling him closer still, and Yuuri responded with a cry, grinding himself harder against Victor, who moaned in response. Neither of them was going to last much longer like this, he realized through a haze of desire. They could of course carry on as they were, but the part of him that could still think coherently knew that more of the same was what awaited them at the ranch: stolen moments away from the prying eyes of ranch hands, spent mostly or fully clothed just in case someone happened by. But here in this hut, they had the luxury of privacy for now. Victor wanted to take advantage of it.

He put his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders to still him, giving him a mischievous look. “We still have our boots on,” he said.

Yuuri took a moment to think about this, his chest rising and falling quickly. There was the tiniest sprinkling of dark hairs between his pecs that fanned downward before thinning out, and Victor wanted to kiss them. In fact, he wanted to kiss every inch of Yuuri Taylor, taking time to explore and memorize and enjoy. That was how he’d always pictured their first time to be. He should have realized they would both be straining for release instead. An idea struck him as Yuuri moved away so that they could both remove their boots and socks.

When they were done, he shifted on the mattress so that he was lying next to Yuuri on his side. Ghosting a hand across the waistband of Yuuri’s pants, he whispered, “These too – if you want.” He slipped his fingers inside both his pants and drawers, palming Yuuri’s hip bone. Yuuri sucked in a startled breath, but the surprise in his eyes quickly turned into fire as he nodded, and Victor helped him pull them off, then did the same with his own.

Their eyes roved over each other, and a deep blush spread down Yuuri’s neck and across his cheeks. “Sorry, I’m staring,” he muttered.

Victor just smiled. “I am too, but I’m not going to apologize. You’re beautiful, Yuuri – every part of you…inside as well as out,” he added quietly; and the warm smile and sparkling eyes he received in response pierced his heart. “Lie down for me, baby.”

Once Yuuri was on his back, Victor moved over him, propping himself up on his knees and elbows. His mouth met Yuuri’s, seeking to reassure him before he did anything else. But Yuuri shifted impatiently underneath him. “Victor…” he said, “…touch me.”

A wave of heat swept through Victor as he continued to stare unabashedly at the erotic sight before him of an aroused Yuuri Taylor – cheeks pink, eyes dark with desire, lips swollen and parted, cock hard and leaking against his belly – which until now had only existed in his fantasies. This was even better. Oh, it was worth the wait.

Yuuri gasped as Victor lowered his hips until their cocks were side by side. He didn’t have anything here that they could use for proper lube, but didn’t mind a rough and ready approach when circumstances called for it, and hoped Yuuri didn’t either. He spat several times into his hand, then massaged it over them both, Yuuri canting his hips up and moaning. Then Victor gently let the rest of his weight settle onto Yuuri, though he held his top half propped up on an elbow, stroking Yuuri’s cheek with his free hand. Yuuri clutched at the tops of his arms. With Victor’s first thrust, Yuuri’s eyes shot open wide and his mouth fell slack, but Victor refrained this time from asking him if it was too much, trusting that Yuuri would tell him if it was, as he’d asked.

Victor thrust again, and then again, the blaze of desire quickly roaring back to life inside of him and spreading into his limbs and through his brain, blanking out all thoughts except those of his need. The friction between the hard muscles of their abdomens was exquisite, tempered just enough with the natural lubrication Victor had applied. His fingers were now splayed against Yuuri’s cheek, and Yuuri was gripping his arms like his life depended on it, opening his legs underneath him and raising his knees so that his feet were planted firmly on the mattress. With the extra purchase, he met Victor thrust for thrust. Victor slid his hand through Yuuri’s hair and cradled the back of his head. Yuuri grappled at Victor’s back, hips bucking and grinding. Victor was vocalizing something with every thrust now – a gasp, a moan, a grunt, a whine. Yuuri was quieter, expressing himself in pants and sighs, or tilting his head back and biting his lip.

“You don’t have to hold anything back, _zvezda moya_ ,” Victor said, his lips mere inches above Yuuri’s. “There’s no one else to hear you here.”

“Victor…” Yuuri gasped brokenly, “…it feels…it feels so…oh, god…” He lifted an arm and stretched it across the mattress behind his head, his fingers flexing and curling. His other hand clutched at Victor’s back. Victor saw that he was trembling, and felt an answering tremor through his own frame. A pulse shot through his cock, and he moaned. They were both close.

“I’ve wanted you so much…for so long,” he breathed, quickening his movements. “I’ve hardly been able to…think of anything else. You have…no idea…what you do to me.”

Yuuri just looked at him, panting, eyes like saucers. Victor leaned over and smeared a trail of open-mouthed kisses up his neck. Suddenly Yuuri jerked his head back, eyes squeezed shut, back arching as he cried out Victor’s name, his fingers digging almost painfully into Victor’s skin. Victor felt a surge of wet heat between them, and thrust several more times until his own release was pulled from him, pleasure rocking through him from head to toe. He gasped Yuuri’s name and sank his head into the crook of his neck; and there they lay, lost in bliss, their breaths gradually slowing.   


	22. Chapter 22

Eventually Victor rolled to the side and looked down at Yuuri warmly, the edges of his mouth curling up. He placed a lingering kiss on Yuuri’s forehead. “OK?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Yuuri answered with a contented sigh, smiling back at him. “But…we’re a bit of a mess.” He reached out and ran a finger through the thick deposit on Victor’s abdomen, then did the same to himself. Victor thought it was incredibly erotic. He swallowed as he watched.

“I’ll go get a towel,” Yuuri offered, standing up and picking his way through their discarded clothing on the floor. He returned in a moment, lay back down and wiped himself off, and then Victor, then flung the towel in a corner. The glorious sunset of the evening had dimmed to a shimmering purple afterglow. Yuuri pulled the lantern over along with a packet of matches and lit it, and a gentle orange light painted itself across their bare skin.

Yuuri snuggled against Victor and draped an arm over his chest, giving his neck a tender kiss. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“What for?” Victor asked, wrapping his arms around him and kissing the top of his head. Their legs twined lazily together.

“For…well, just for everything. I’m glad we finally did this. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so happy.”

Victor beamed, pulling Yuuri closer. “Well. Me too.”

They fell into a contented silence punctuated by slow caresses. Victor was beginning to think Yuuri had fallen asleep when he suddenly tilted his head to look at him and asked, “You’ve…been…with other guys before, haven’t you?”

Victor returned his gaze. “Sure,” he said quietly.

“Um…anyone on the ranch I’m likely to bump into?” He gave Victor a nervous grin.

Ah, so that was what he wanted to know. “There was one guy for a while; you couldn’t really call it a relationship. But he left – went prospecting for gold in Montana. I hope he found what he was looking for, but well…a lot of men get that dream in their heads, and not many of them are lucky enough that anything comes of it.”

“Oh,” was all Yuuri said.

After a pause, Victor asked, “You?”

Yuuri chuckled mirthlessly. “I’m surprised you even have to ask.” As Victor continued to look at him steadily through the half-light, his eyes mirroring the gently flickering flame of the lantern on the floor nearby, he eventually replied, “No.” Then he added, “Or women, either. Um, not really, I mean.”

Victor sat up further and raised his eyebrows. “So this was your first time…?” When Yuuri nodded, he added, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Pink spread across Yuuri’s cheeks. “I guess I was embarrassed.”

Victor sighed and stroked Yuuri’s hair back from his forehead. “I wouldn’t have known,” he muttered. “You’re very sensual. But sex isn’t a performance. At least, that’s never what I’ve wanted from it. It’s a way of being intimate. And…it can be a lot of fun too.” He gave a low chuckle. “I hope you never have to feel embarrassed about anything again with me. There’s no need. And well, if we’re going to talk about embarrassment, just think about how I felt over the past several days.”

“Victor,” Yuuri murmured, reaching up to caress his cheek, “I meant to ask, what was it you said earlier in Russian?”

Victor thought back. Some of the things he’d said would have been shocking in polite conversation. He hazarded a guess. “ _Zvezda moya_?”

“Yeah. What does it mean?”

“ ‘My star _._ ’ Russians have lots of pet names. I’m sure I’ll be able to think of some more. Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri said with a laugh. “I like _baby_ too. I never imagined anyone would call me that.”

“Hmm. You know, there’s something you could call me, too. How about Vitya?”

“Vitya,” Yuuri repeated, rolling the sound of it around in his mouth. Victor loved hearing him say it that way.

“That’s it. Perfect.”

Yuuri paused, then the blush on his cheeks deepened. “Victor, what we just did was…well, I didn’t even realize it was possible. There’s a lot I don’t know, I guess, though I don’t like admitting it. I always thought sex usually involved p-penetration.” He stumbled over the last word, clearly trying and failing to feel at ease with the topic.

Victor smiled. “It doesn’t have to. There are other things we could do, or we could stick to what we’ve done here. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“I want to try everything,” Yuuri said in a rush. “I want _you._ ”

“I love your enthusiasm,” Victor laughed. “It’s best not to do… _that_ here, though. It could be…painful for you, if it’s your first time, and that’s the last thing I’d want. I can make what we need back at the ranch, given some time.”

Yuuri’s cheeks blazed. “I – I didn’t mean right now. There’s no hurry. I’m just happy being with you.”

Victor leaned over and captured his lips in a soft, slow kiss, his hair flopping over his eye. “Me too.”

“I’m glad. So…this isn’t just a brush to you then?”

Victor was taken aback. Did he really just ask that? To be fair, though, he himself had been wondering the same – whether Yuuri would still be interested in pursuing this new side to their relationship once they returned to the ranch. How silly those worries seemed now. Finally he replied in a firm voice, “No, Yuuri. This isn’t just a brush.”

“It’s…just that I guess you never stayed with any of those men you were with for very long?”

So he wanted reassurance. Well, that wasn’t difficult to give. “You know that people on ranches come and go all the time. So many of them seem to be running or hiding from something. Or they’re young and want to test their mettle, and find out it’s a harder life than they expected and move on to something else. It doesn’t really lend itself to long-term relationships.” He looked away thoughtfully. “I’ve moved around a lot myself. When I got to this country, it took a while to find a ranch I felt I could be happy at.”

“Are you happy at the Circle C?”

Victor looked back down and met Yuuri’s eyes. “Yes. Especially now I’ve met you.” As Yuuri beamed at him, his brown eyes dancing, Victor stroked his cheek with the back of his index finger and added, “I’m not planning on going anywhere, baby.”

As they drifted off to sleep in the dark, loosely entangled in each other, Victor’s thoughts touched on memories from the past several months, like clouds moving across the land. Discovering that Yuuri had been clever, talented and determined enough to teach himself trick riding on his own – and how beautiful he looked when he performed it. The first night Yuuri spent at the Circle C, when he’d tried to get Victor to dance with him, and having to turn him down because he wasn’t sure it would be wise to do otherwise in front of all the other men so soon. Those flawless vaults Yuuri had executed after struggling so much…Victor didn’t doubt that his own words to him, designed to caution him and keep him safe, had paradoxically spurred him to try even harder, until he’d achieved the result he was after. He just wished he’d been a better teacher, so that Yuuri hadn’t felt the need to take things upon himself like that; and it was something he’d had to reflect on.

And the number of times he’d hoped, once Yuuri seemed comfortable with receiving and giving hugs, that one of them might end in a kiss…Victor felt a twinge of amusement about it now, though at the time it took some exercise in patience – especially combined with the glimpses he sometimes received of a partially or completely nude Yuuri Taylor to tantalize him straight into his dreams. He thought for sure he was getting somewhere after the rodeo, when he’d kissed Yuuri’s bandanna and given it back to him – he’d never realized how sexy bandannas could be until he’d met Yuuri – because surely there was no mistaking the sudden intake of breath and heated look of longing the beautiful brown-eyed man had given him.

 _Well_ , he thought, _anyone who can convincingly pull off a smoldering look of desire with a stuffed rabbit toy tucked under one arm is definitely a keeper._ He grinned to himself and nuzzled against Yuuri’s hair, relishing the feel and the scent of him as his eyelids drooped shut and his thoughts trailed pleasantly away.             

***

“Ow,” Yuuri muttered under his breath, jerking his finger away from the hot cooking pot. That was clumsy of him. All day long his consciousness had been floating somewhere above the earth, and it was frankly surprising he was coordinated enough to put one foot in front of the other. He gave the meat a stir. He’d shot a couple more hares today, with Victor accompanying him and taking some shots himself; he seemed to be feeling a lot better.

 _Who wouldn’t be, after getting up to the things we’ve done?_ he thought, smiling to himself as he moved the spoon. Last night…and then this morning, after sleepy kisses had led to more heated exchanges, and Yuuri asking to repeat what they’d done before, only with him on top this time. He’d had moments of self-consciousness and hesitation again, but Victor managed to put him at his ease and help him through, just as he’d done previously, before he even knew how inexperienced Yuuri was. He treasured what Victor had already taught him, and wondered what else there was to learn that he hadn’t even dreamed of yet.

Just thinking about it sent a rush of heat to his groin. This was going to be something of a challenge…Yuuri had thought that if he and Victor ever added a physical dimension to their relationship, he would finally feel less distracted by these fantasies and flares of desire, not more.  It didn’t help that later Victor had commented that if they slowed down and drew it out, the sex could feel better still – and it appeared that his idea of drawing it out today involved making everyday activities into teasing interactions that left them both full of want. Starting with bathing in the creek, both of them for the first time soaping and rinsing and embracing each other without the need to conceal their feelings. They’d agreed that they wouldn’t take things further there in case someone happened along on a detour from the main road – they’d been lucky not to have met anyone so far – though Victor seemed to enjoy the teasing as well. Yuuri had practically been quivering by the time he got out of the water and dried himself off.

A cooling breeze blew through the windows after what had been another warm, dry day, though the fire inside the stove overpowered it. Victor was sitting behind Yuuri at the table, laying out the rest of the food they had. They’d gathered a generous bowlful of raspberries again today, as well as more miner’s lettuce, and there were the remains of hardtack and some dried fruit. Yuuri had decided to reduce the cooking liquid around the meat to a rich sauce this time, and it shouldn’t be too much longer, he judged.

Glancing over at Victor, he couldn’t help but think about the previous night again. Whatever had possessed Yuuri to kiss him, he was infinitely grateful that it had been the right decision. _I’ve wanted you so much, for so long,_ Victor had said. Yuuri wondered how he could have been so blind not to see it. Though even now, after Victor’s reassurances – calling him beautiful and sexy, which had dampened any anxiety he’d felt like a drug – it seemed surprising that such a remarkable person could feel that way about someone like himself. But he'd known he needed to stop questioning it, and just let things happen.

And when he had…oh god, he’d never felt anything so amazing in his life. A shudder ran through him. All the times he’d dreamed of touching Victor like that…being touched in return…and then it was really happening…

“How’s it going?” Victor asked behind him.

“Huh? Oh, um – I think it’s about done.” He brought the pot over to the table. Victor had put a little of every type of food apart from the raspberries on tin plates for them, and Yuuri poured the meat and sauce on top.

“Smells delicious.”

“I hope so.” Yuuri sat down in the chair opposite Victor and picked up a fork.

“How about scooting over to the side, so you’re closer?” Victor suggested, giving him a grin.

 _What’s he up to?_ Yuuri wondered, obliging him. “That better?”

“Yeah. Tell you what – as the cook, why don’t you take the first bite?” He speared a piece of meat from Yuuri’s plate with his fork and held it up. Realizing what Victor wanted him to do, Yuuri leaned forward and bit the food off the fork, looking into his dark gaze. His stomach did a flip that had nothing to do with what he was eating.

Playing along with the game, Yuuri speared a piece of meat from Victor’s plate and held it up for him. Victor wrapped his lips around the fork and drew his head back with a small moan, briefly closing his eyes. “That’s lovely,” he said, looking back at Yuuri with an expression that was part teasing and part hungry for more than what they were sharing now. Yuuri let out a shaky breath. Suddenly he didn’t want any more food at all, with quite a different kind of desire commanding his attention now. But they carried on in this way for a while; and when Yuuri moved on to other things on his plate, and Victor did the same, he felt a hand squeeze his knee under the table. When he darted a look over at him, Victor gave him a mischievous smile and carried on eating. Then the hand began to move in a slow caress over the inside of Yuuri’s thigh, and Yuuri almost choked on the piece of lettuce he was chewing. He heard a chuckle next to him.

“I think I’m ready for the raspberries – how about you?” Victor asked.

“I don’t know…I think I’ve had enough,” Yuuri replied, his appetite having evaporated a while back despite the fact that he hadn’t actually eaten much.

“Oh, but that’s the best part. Come join me near the mattress, and we can have them together,” he wheedled in a soft voice, picking up the tin bowl and smiling at Yuuri.

Interested now to see what Victor had in mind, Yuuri stood up and followed him. Victor put the bowl down on the floor and removed his boots and socks, then his bandanna and vest and shirt, putting them all in a pile, and then sat down next to the bowl. With a deep breath, Yuuri did the same, and sat on the floor next to Victor. “This works better with our boots and shirts off, does it?” he asked with a smirk.

“Definitely,” Victor replied in a low voice. “But we’re too far apart. Come over here, like this.” He reached his arms out and assisted Yuuri in weaving his legs around his own so that they were sitting practically chest to chest, facing each other. Yuuri’s breaths came faster as he looked into Victor’s eyes and placed a palm on his chest. He was tempted to lean in for a kiss, but Victor picked up a raspberry from the bowl and ate it slowly. “I’m sure I’ve never tasted anything so good,” he sighed when he was done, in a tone that sounded as if he’d just done something obscene, his eyes hooded. “Would you like to try one?”

Yuuri knew he’d been reeled into Victor’s game again, but gave in willingly. “Yes,” he breathed. Victor quirked a smile and picked up a raspberry, placing it in Yuuri’s partially open mouth. His finger ghosted over Yuuri’s lower lip, then traced down the middle of his chest before disappearing into the bowl for another raspberry. A shudder rippled through Yuuri. This was maddening. He had to take back some control before he was reduced to a helpless puddle.

“That was so good,” he said deliberately, making his words breathy as he sent a heated look back to Victor. “More.”

Looking pleased, Victor brought another raspberry to Yuuri’s lips. He took it in and swallowed it quickly; then, before Victor could react, he moved his head slightly forward and mouthed the end of Victor’s index finger. Taking his cue from what Victor had done, he sucked gently, adding a bit of tongue, and closed his eyes and moaned as if it was the best thing he’d ever tasted, gradually moving his head back and releasing him. When he opened his eyes, he saw Victor looking at him in shock, his lips parted, a pink bloom across his cheeks. Enjoying the feeling of power that leaped into his chest, Yuuri wondered what else he could do to fluster him, and gently grasped the same hand, which was returning to the raspberry bowl, lifting it back to his mouth. Fixing Victor’s eyes with his own, he ran his lips across the outside of Victor’s fingers and then mouthed kisses over them. Next he closed his eyes and softly played his lips, teeth and tongue over the end of Victor’s middle finger, eventually taking it deeper and giving it a suck. He heard a shuddering gasp in response.

Did he really once think that using his tongue to pleasure a lover would be no different from licking an ice cream cone or chewing a piece of gum? He hadn’t given himself credit for his own instinct to feel and taste. He’d never done these things to anyone before, but it was fun to try them as they came to mind, and they seemed to have turned the tables on Victor. Yuuri gripped his hand more firmly and sucked his finger harder, bobbing his head slightly in a rhythm that left no doubt about what he was imitating, and flashed a darkly flirtatious look at Victor.

“Fuck,” Victor breathed, watching him with wide eyes. He pulled his hand away and placed it at the back of Yuuri’s head, anchoring his other hand on Yuuri’s bare hip, and drew him forward for an urgent, searing kiss. Nothing Victor had done up until now had been like this, imbued with such energy and need; and Yuuri found himself loving it, giving back with equal passion. Their teeth clashed, though not painfully so, and their tongues tangled as they pressed their bodies together. Yuuri wrapped his arms around Victor, clasping his back and moaning into their kiss as he tried to angle himself forward and up for the friction that he craved but couldn’t quite seem to find. If this was the effect Victor had been after by planning all of the teasing beforehand, it had worked, because it wasn’t taking much now to kindle their desire into a raging heat.

“Mattress,” Victor choked out. When Yuuri nodded silently, he was surprised to find himself lifted bodily a couple of feet off the floor. He wrapped his arms around Victor’s neck as he relaxed into the feel of being gently moved and deposited on the soft surface. Victor hooked his fingers into the waistband of Yuuri’s pants and looked at him.

“OK?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah. But you don’t have to keep asking – I’ll let you know if you do something I don’t want,” Yuuri promised him.

Victor nodded, then pulled Yuuri’s remaining clothes off with one quick movement, Yuuri helping by kicking his pants and drawers away from his ankles. He couldn’t help feeling exposed and vulnerable like this, as he had before; but the way Victor’s eyes were drinking him in reassured him that there was nothing he needed to feel ashamed of. His confidence bolstered, he tucked an arm under his head, tilted his hips a little, and gave Victor a playful look. “Well, what are you waiting for?” he said in the best purr he could muster, wondering what Victor had in mind for them to do. He was kneeling next to Yuuri, still with his own pants on, his bangs flopping over his flushed face.

“You’re going to be the death of me, baby,” Victor murmured with a grin, stretching out next to him. At the same time as he lowered his head for a kiss, he took Yuuri in hand and slowly started to pump him, swirling precome around the head with his thumb. Taken by surprise, Yuuri cried out and threaded a hand through Victor’s hair while the other scrabbled at his back. Victor licked into his mouth and traced the tip of his tongue around Yuuri’s. Yuuri was aware of sounds coming from his throat but was so overwhelmed by it all that he wasn’t even entirely sure where he was. Some heavenly place where this beautiful man was pleasuring him in so many ways that his mind had shut down, and the only things he was aware of were sensation and building need.

“Victor,” he mouthed into the kiss. “Vitya,” he corrected himself.

“Tell me what you want,” Victor whispered back, kissing the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, his hand further down never ceasing its movements.

“I – I want you.”

“Tell me more.”

Yuuri felt a flush spread across his cheeks. He swallowed, trying to claw back some sense of control. “Make me come,” he said as firmly as he could, looking into Victor’s eyes. While he said it, he twisted around, reached both hands behind Victor and slipped them underneath his pants and drawers, pulling him close and kneading the tight muscles of his ass. Victor gasped and moved his hand around Yuuri’s waist; they were lying on their sides now, crushed against each other. Victor hooked a leg around Yuuri and pushed, rolling them over so that Yuuri was lying on his back with Victor on top of him.

Yuuri lay still and blinked up. Victor held his gaze for a moment, his eyes dark with desire, and then placed open-mouthed kisses down Yuuri’s neck, from his ear to his collarbone. He worked his way further down, lips and hands and tongue and teeth exploring, breathing Yuuri’s name against his skin. Yuuri caressed his back, whimpering and gasping as Victor neared where he ached to be touched. But Victor skirted around, running his fingers through the short brown hairs there and licking his way down the inside of a thigh. Yuuri moaned, a mix of pleasure and frustration surging through him.

“Patience, _solnyshko_. You have the most wonderful thighs. A horse rider’s as well as an athlete’s. You don’t know how many times I’ve dreamed of having them wrapped around me.” He sighed and moved his lips and tongue back up the other thigh. Yuuri shuddered and his cock twitched. “I want to taste you.”

Yuuri felt a hand cup his balls and give them a tug and a squeeze, while another hand wrapped around the base of his shaft, and Victor’s hot, wet mouth suddenly sank deep around him. Yuuri arched his back and gave a loud, throaty cry, splaying his palms against the mattress to either side of him, trying desperately not to come yet. As he felt Victor’s mouth moving up and down, tonguing the underside of the tip of his cock, sucking hard, Yuuri writhed and tried to resist the urge to buck his hips and thrust. Victor squeezed his balls again, and Yuuri looked down the length of his body at him, to discover that Victor was gazing back with hooded lids as he bobbed his head.

Yuuri’s orgasm ripped through him. There was a keening noise he vaguely thought must be from him, as he released pulse after pulse that Victor swallowed down. He felt like he had been overwhelmed by a wave that had swept him far out to sea, and he was a cork bobbing on top, going whichever way he was tossed. It took several moments for him to come back to himself. Victor had slowed his movements to a stop and then lay down next to him on his side, smiling and stroking his cheek.

“Victor, I…that was…incredible.”

“Good,” Victor said. He was flushed and panting. Yuuri eyed the bulge in his pants.

 “Can I…?” he asked, taking an obvious glance down then looking back up at Victor. He wasn’t sure how to go about doing this, but how difficult could it be? He’d done it to himself enough times.

Victor nodded, continuing to look into Yuuri’s eyes. Yuuri palmed him, running his fingers firmly along Victor’s length through his pants and then squeezing. Victor gave an answering groan. “That’s it, baby,” he breathed. “Just…” To Yuuri’s surprise, he clasped a hand over his own and pushed down hard, shifting his hips as he did so. Yuuri felt him shake, and then Victor moaned against his neck as a wet patch spread across where their hands were joined. “Sorry,” Victor apologized after a moment. “I was…excited.”

Yuuri smiled and kissed the top of his head. “You’re amazing,” he said, wrapping an arm around him. _And I love you._ He wanted so much to say it out loud, but wasn’t sure how Victor would respond – was it too soon? He guessed there would be time enough in the future. “Why don’t you take your clothes off and get under a blanket with me?” he suggested. “I’ll go grab one.”

Victor took Yuuri’s hand and kissed the outside of his fingers, and this time it was sweet rather than seductive. “That sounds nice,” he said, returning Yuuri’s smile. 

***

Yuuri rubbed his eyes in the morning twilight and then lay still, watching Victor sleep as the watery sun gradually gained strength. He wished he could paint, and capture how the warm light of dawn played on Victor’s fair hair and skin.

Yuuri never liked waking up early, but had been trained to do it as a ranch hand, and usually allowed himself to fall back into a light doze for a while afterward. He could never get tired of this, though, he thought – waking up with Victor’s warmth next to him. And yet at the ranch they would have to sleep in separate beds. He hadn’t wanted to think of the practicalities of returning, but they were getting impossible to ignore. The two of them would have to talk later, but for now Yuuri was determined to enjoy another morning together with Victor in privacy while he could.

He snuggled closer to him and kissed the top of his arm, running a hand over his chest. Victor’s eyelids fluttered open, and he gave Yuuri a sleepy smile. “Good morning,” he said.

“Morning. How are you feeling? I know I keep asking, but well, it’s important.”

“Like a new man. My symptoms are gone.”

“That’s good.”

“I’d be even better with a kiss. Come here.”

Yuuri bent his head down as Victor loosely wrapped his arms around his back, and they enjoyed a slow, playful kiss, Victor seemingly trying to decide which he liked better, Yuuri’s upper or lower lip. Yuuri had been worried about morning breath and rumpled hair and all the other potentially embarrassing things the dawn of a new day could bring, but they didn’t seem off-putting to Victor, and were therefore easier for him to overlook too, though he still felt some self-consciousness about them. It was intimate, being together like this; and there was a languor to it that was different, but no less enjoyable, than the passion of the night. Nevertheless, as they kissed and cuddled, desire gradually kindled within them, fuelled by the as yet unspoken understanding that their time here would soon be at an end.

Remembering what he’d done to Victor the night before but hadn’t had the opportunity to carry on with for very long, Yuuri took him in hand while they faced each other lying on their sides; and Victor did the same. They explored each other’s mouths while finding an increasingly rough, quick rhythm that brought them both to completion. Yuuri took longer to find his own, feeling exposed again with Victor so near, and looking at him with those intense blue eyes. There was nowhere to hide when they did these things, and although Yuuri didn’t consciously want to, he still found it a little intimidating. He hoped he’d get used to it with practice, and practice was something he was looking forward to getting a lot of, as circumstances allowed.  

After they’d cleaned up and were holding each other again, Yuuri said, “We’re going to have to leave, aren’t we. I guess Abe’s probably wondering when he’s going to see us again. Still…I’m going to miss it here. I mean I know how awful it was for you at first. But then – ”

“I know,” Victor said, talking into his hair. “I feel the same. Something wonderful came out of it.”

Yuuri felt a rush of warmth down to his toes. “I just wish I could look forward to going back. And I am, in some ways – seeing the guys again, working with the horses, getting decent meals. But…” He looked at Victor. “…it’s going to be difficult… _being_ with each other there, isn’t it? I mean, I’ve been thinking…” He blushed and swallowed, but need overrode his embarrassment for once. “When we can, I want to…feel you inside me. And me inside you, if that’s what you want. I don’t know how we can do that on a busy ranch, though.”

Victor stroked his cheek. “I’d like that too. And it won’t be impossible. We just need to be careful what we do, where, and when. Camping outside at night in a bedroll is good, when the weather’s warm and dry. There’s the stable at night. A few other places I know of. Other times, when we feel the need…” He smiled. “…we don’t even have to take any clothes off. We can also store some spare ones, and some towels, in the stable for example.”

Yuuri looked at him, unsettled by how quick and easy his answers were, as if he was used to planning these things out. “OK. I want to make this work.”

“Me too.”

“We really do need to get back to the ranch.”

“We do.”

“Maybe even today.”

“Yeah.”

Yuuri was surprised to feel tears pooling in the corner of his eye. Victor brushed them away. “It’s going to be OK, baby. Wait and see.”            

***

They finished off Yuuri’s provision of bacon for breakfast, along with the remainder of the raspberries, which they’d barely touched the previous night before they’d gotten distracted. Yuuri smirked while he ate them and remembered, and Victor smiled too.

“I’d love to do that again sometime – maybe with champagne and Belgian chocolates,” he said.

“Have you actually had those things?” Yuuri laughed. Victor just raised an eyebrow, and Yuuri was left speculating about what context that might have happened in, quickly deciding he didn’t want to know. He was beginning to wonder if Victor actually wanted him to ask about his past…exploits, or whatever they were, and the thought crossed Yuuri’s mind that maybe he should. But he also felt that someone like Victor had probably been with any number of impossibly beautiful and talented men, and he knew he would end up feeling like he could never compare. Best maybe to let sleeping dogs lie, for now at least.

Yuuri had made sure they left some hardtack, dried fruit and jerky for the ride back to the Circle C, which he packed in his saddlebags. They cleaned and tidied the hut, then visited the creek one last time to bathe and wash their clothes. While their things dried on the riverbank, they took turns shaving each other and savored some kisses and caresses, then got dressed and double-checked they’d packed everything that was theirs from the hut. Yuuri knew that one or both of them would need to return soon to restock for anyone else who happened by and needed the shelter.

“I guess that’s it,” he said, cinching his saddlebags onto Biscuit. When there was no reply, he looked where Victor was standing and saw him with his arms crossed, an expression of wistfulness on his face.

“I wish I knew what happened to Luchik,” he said. Then his head drooped.

Yuuri joined him and put an arm around his waist, kissing his cheek. “I know. I’m sorry.” He wished there’d been more he could have done to help, but all he could think to do was make occasional fruitless trips up the bluffs to scan the area with his field glasses. “You’re sure you’re OK to travel?”

Victor nodded and sighed. “I feel fine now. Thanks to you.” He gave Yuuri a quick kiss on the top of his head. He seemed to like that, Yuuri decided, and he wasn’t going to discourage him.

“I still want you to promise me you’ll see the doctor when we get back.”

“I promise,” Victor said in a fake-petulant voice.

Yuuri mounted Biscuit, and Victor hopped up behind him. Neither was wearing his Stetson in such close proximity to the other, as the brims would get in the way. As they traveled, Yuuri soon discovered that Victor had decided to take advantage of this by searching out the nape of his neck with his lips, occasionally placing a quick peck there, while at other times giving him lingering sensuous kisses while running his hands over the front of Yuuri’s shirt. It was the most distracting ride Yuuri had ever had – and the most enjoyable by far. 


	23. Chapter 23

It felt strange trotting into the Circle C, the two of them on Biscuit, Yuuri thought – as if they were returning from some faraway place; and though everything here had stayed the same, it felt like his life had changed. One last gentle kiss into his hair from the man on the saddle behind him was testament to that.

They had arrived in the evening, and several men now ran up to them as they rode past the main buildings on their way to the stable. News of their absence was of course well known, and all the ranch hands they passed expressed their relief to see them both safe and sound, though Herb Morrison had also been true to his word and let them know that Yuuri had found Victor. Yuuri had already been wondering what he could do to repay the farmer for his kindness.

“Well, here we are,” he said unnecessarily as they drew up outside the corral and dismounted.

“Home sweet home,” Victor laughed, opening the gate. “Biscuit’s worked hard today, carrying the two of us. She’s a good girl – aren’t you? Yes, you are,” he said in a singsong voice, stroking her muzzle.

“Yeah, she’s earned some pampering. I’d better take her inside.”

“Well I’ll be – look what the storm just blew in!” came a familiar drawling voice from the stable entrance, and Yuuri looked over to see Chris standing there with a grin, his green eyes glinting. “I can’t remember the last time I been so pleased to see anybody,” he added, walking over to them. Then he gave Victor a quick friendly hug and did the same to Yuuri, who smiled in surprise. “How’re ya feelin’, pard?” he asked Victor.

“Not bad, all things considered,” Victor replied. “We’ll have to tell you about our little adventure later. I could do with a rest and a good meal first though, I think.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Chris, I lost – ” he began more gravely; but Chris interrupted him.

“Now none of that. Commere, both of yuhz.” He gestured for them to follow him inside the stable. Once they entered and their eyes adjusted to the dim light, they perused the stalls – and there in his habitual place was Luchik.

Victor gasped and darted into the stall and was greeted with a whinny and a snort. He threw his arms around the horse’s neck and spoke little endearments to him in a mixture of English and Russian. Yuuri’s heart filled with elation for him. He realized he was beaming as he watched the reunion, and Chris looked at him with a smile.

“Imagine my surprise when a coupla ranch hands led this here fella in from the open range without his master,” he said. “All saddled up, an’ no Victor to be seen. We knew then it was probably a good thang ya went lookin’ for him. We knew Victor wouldn’t leave him to wander around on his lonesome like that.”

“What a clever guy you are to find your way back,” Victor said to the horse. “Have they been taking good care of you?” He stood back and cast a critical eye over the animal, stroking his mane. “Of course they have. And you brought everything back with you,” he added, looking around the stall and discovering his Cossack saddle and saddlebags.

“Don’ look like anyone robbed anythin’ from yuh, at least from what I could tell – all them bags were full when I checked,” Chris told him.

Victor looked at him with sparkling eyes. “Thank you,” he said, exiting the stall and giving the Texan a second hug.

“Aw, sho’ nuff,” Chris replied, clapping his hands to his back. “I’ll leave yuh an’ this here fine animal to get reacquainted.” He gestured goodbye to him and Yuuri and left them alone in the stable.

Now Yuuri was the recipient of a huge hug. He circled his arms around Victor and laughed into the crook of his neck.

“Luchik – I can’t believe it! I’m so happy, Yuuri.”

Yuuri smiled at him and placed a hand on his cheek, and received in return a hard, smiling kiss that left him tingling. 

***

Victor and Yuuri had a conversation with Abe Connor that evening in which they explained what had happened, and Victor reported on the horses he’d looked at on the ranch he’d visited before his accident. They also received Abe’s permission to go into town the following day so that Victor could be checked over by the doctor. Yuuri found himself retelling his version of their adventure so many times to so many eager ears that he lost track, and he knew Victor was doing the same; it was the hottest news on the ranch. Between this and the ordinary work they’d fallen behind with, they were so busy that Yuuri hardly had a spare moment to stop and think. He did, however, savor the sonofabitch stew they ate their first evening back, as if it were a fine delicacy; the coffee less so.

Larkspur felt like a hive of civilization to Yuuri when they arrived. He insisted on accompanying Victor to the doctor’s surgery, smoking a quirly in the waiting room while Victor was given a checkup.

“Doc couldn’t find anything wrong,” Victor reported, exiting the examination room. “He says I look fit as a fiddle.”

“That’s great,” Yuuri said with some relief. He took a drag of his cigarette and coughed. Victor eyed him, as Yuuri noticed he often did when he smoked. He stubbed the cigarette out wordlessly and accompanied him to the barber’s shop, where they both luxuriated in a shave and hot baths. Afterward, they stopped at the general store owned by Phichit’s family to restock on supplies. Yuuri visited with Mr. Chulanont after he’d purchased his tobacco, coffee, hardtack, whiskey and other odds and ends, while Victor wandered over to the wall where notices had been pinned up. When Yuuri joined him, Victor pointed excitedly to one poster that had a drawing of a cowboy riding a bucking bronco.

“This is perfect,” he said.

Yuuri put his glasses on and peered at it. “ ‘Frontier Days’, Fort McKinley, Saturday the twenty-first of September. Looks like a rodeo.” He eyed Victor curiously as he put his glasses back in his vest pocket. “Were you thinking of competing?”

“Not me. You.”

“Huh?” Yuuri eyed him doubtfully.

“It’s just the thing! You won’t have to wait almost another whole year before you can ride in a rodeo. You can go to this one first.” He smiled at Yuuri as if this were the most amazing, exciting idea in the world. Yuuri felt rather differently.

“I can’t do that,” he said in a low voice, ushering Victor out of the general store and onto the boardwalk outside. “Are you crazy?”

“What’s crazy about it? You’ve been practicing for months. The things you can already do will impress the audience and judges, and you have time to polish them and learn even more.”

Yuuri just stood and blinked at him. “You’re serious.”

“Of course I am.”

“And what about you – why don’t you want to compete? Are you going to stay here while I travel out there? Must be, what…half a day’s ride away.”

“I’ll be your coach.”

“You’ll be my…what?”

“Yuuri.” Victor reached out to hold the top of his arm. “I’ve told you before, I can do these things already – though it’s been fun learning new tricks riding bareback, and I’m going to carry on with that for the rodeo here next May. But it’s new for you, and there’s so much I could teach you. Why don’t you give it a try, and let me help you? How do you think it would feel to have an audience love you, and win a rodeo contest?”

Yuuri’s voice stuck in his throat. He was finding Victor very sincere and persuasive, even if the thought of performing in front of a large crowd at what he still considered to be a moment’s notice filled him with dread. “I don’t know, I…” Then he looked into that pair of blue eyes, and knew he was lost. “OK,” he said with a small smile. 

***

Somehow, then, he was going to have to fit more practice into his days, Yuuri thought late one evening as he hung from the rings in the stable. He’d fallen a little out of condition during the time he’d been away, but had to admit it felt good to get his muscles working again, even if the afternoons were now getting uncomfortably hot. There was all the work he and Victor were obliged to do with the horses for the Circle C, and that had to come first; and Yuuri was still taking ballet lessons from Clarissa – he’d had to explain to her why he’d disappeared without a word, though he gave her the version of the story that he gave the ranch hands, which of course neglected to mention that he and Victor had become intimately involved.

There had been virtually no opportunities for them to indulge themselves in that way since they’d returned, however, aside from kisses when they greeted each other in the stable in the morning. Yuuri found he was harboring a growing fear that what they’d shared at the hut was going to end up being a treasured memory, while their lives here at the ranch would simply carry on as before. Time and privacy were at a premium.

He let go of the rings and pulled off his sweaty cotton shirt while he watched Victor on the balance beam, moving as always like something bright and ethereal out of a dream. He allowed himself to stare for a while with undisguised appreciation, watching Victor’s bare muscles flex. He was shining with perspiration; the temperature in the stable must be in the high eighties despite the late hour, Yuuri reckoned, grabbing his canteen and taking a swig of cool water.

When he finished, he noticed that Victor had stepped off the beam and was looking at him. “You don’t get off that easily yet,” he said. “Back up on the rings, Taylor.”

This was Victor’s new friendly-but-firm coach-voice that he’d been using for several days now. At times Yuuri loved it, while others he found it annoying, though he knew Victor meant well. He raised his eyebrows and dusted some chalk from a leather pouch onto his hands; they’d bought some in town and crushed it up, and it worked a charm for preventing mishaps on the apparatus on days like this. Victor gave him a boost back up on the rings, and Yuuri realized it was the first significant physical contact they’d had in some time. He would have to put that right, he thought as he swung up and held his upper body straight while he pointed his legs out in front of him. But how?

“I’ve done enough of this for now,” he announced after a few minutes, dropping back down. “I’m going to practice some ballet.” He walked over to the beam he used as a barre, hoping that they’d have the stable to themselves for a while, since the other men usually gravitated back to the bunkhouse as the sun went down. When he got there, he struck some of the poses he was used to doing at Clarissa’s, but with added arches to his back or turns of his hips, in addition to running his fingers slowly up his thigh or tilting his head back with his eyes closed. When he snuck a glance at Victor, he saw with satisfaction that he was standing and watching, a look of hunger in his eyes. “You’re welcome to join me,” Yuuri invited him in a low, quiet voice.

Victor strode over and wrapped an arm around Yuuri’s back, guiding him into a dip. “You are such a tease,” he murmured.

“Is it working?”

“Yes.”

Yuuri stood up and twirled around Victor as if he were dancing on a stage, then caught his shoulder with a hand as he returned to the front and dipped again, raising a leg and stretching an arm back so that his fingers almost touched the floor. Suddenly Victor picked him up in that pose and turned a graceful circle, then put Yuuri down on his feet. Yuuri did a pirouette while he and Victor held hands in the air. They carried on for a while with their impromptu dance in silence, eyes fixed to each other’s. It was one of the most sensual things Yuuri had ever done, and he knew that the quick breaths he was taking were not all down to exercising in the warm stable.

Suddenly Victor stopped. “Wait here,” he murmured as he walked over to Luchik’s stall and grabbed a blanket. When he returned, he held his hand out to Yuuri, and he took it, following him to a dark corner of the stable where there was a pile of hay. Victor dropped the blanket onto it and wrapped his arms around Yuuri. “I know it’s not the most romantic spot, he said in an apologetic tone, “but it’s the best I can do.”

Yuuri just smiled at him, running his hands up Victor’s back and enjoying the glide over his slick skin. Then he tilted his head up and licked into Victor’s mouth, jerking his hips forward at the same time, showing him how ready he was for this. Victor moaned into the kiss and pulled them both down into the hay. It was surprisingly soft, and Yuuri liked the fact that he could sink down into it; there was much more give to it than a mattress.

 They kissed, caressed, and tangled their bodies as if they hadn’t seen each other in weeks. Yuuri found himself wishing, despite his inexperience with such things, that they could join in the most intimate way here; it was what he craved, but he knew it was wise to follow Victor’s guidance and wait for whatever type of lubrication he said he could get for them. Still feeling some frustration, however, he ground his hips into Victor’s and breathed against his lips, “Vitya…I want you.”

“I want you too.” Victor punctuated his words with fevered kisses. “I’ve been waiting for a chance to do this.” Then he paused to remove his shoes and remaining clothing, and Yuuri did the same. When they lay back in the hay, Victor pulled the blanket over them up to their chests. “I know it’s already warm, baby, but just in case anyone comes in…”

“OK,” Yuuri replied in understanding, nestling against him. The glide of their bodies against each other was delicious, and he ran his hands over Victor’s back and down his buttocks, cupping them and pulling forward. Victor cupped the back of Yuuri’s head and kissed him deeply, but they both soon broke off, gasping.

“I’d like to try something,” Victor said between ragged breaths. “Will you turn over for me so you’re lying on your side, with your back against me?”

Yuuri obliged, smirking for a moment as he felt Victor pull off some straws that were stuck to his back. Then Victor spooned him close, and Yuuri moaned as he felt Victor’s cock slide between his cheeks. Victor reached down and repositioned it so that he could thrust between Yuuri’s thighs, the glide enabled by the sweat on their skin. He planted sloppy kisses on Yuuri’s neck between gasps, and clutched his arms tightly around his chest, then slid a hand down to grip Yuuri’s cock, and pumped it in time with his thrusts.

“Victor – Jesus, that feels so good,” Yuuri said in a cracked voice, gathering momentum toward his release. The stimulation in both places was amazing. He gritted his teeth and slid his hands over Victor’s.

“Come for me, baby,” Victor whispered in his ear, his thrusts becoming quick and erratic.

Yuuri found himself poised on the brink, filled with sensation, and Victor’s words an aphrodisiac. A series of cries escaped him as his cock pulsed in Victor’s grip, his hands clutching emptily in front of him as ribbons spurted from him onto the hay. Victor made similar noises against his neck soon after; his body shook, and wet heat jetted between Yuuri’s legs. They lay there for some time, spent and panting.          

“We must do this again sometime,” Yuuri eventually said. “How are you fixed a week from Tuesday – or is that too short notice?”

Victor chuckled and kissed his shoulder.


	24. Chapter 24

“That should do it,” Yuuri announced aloud to nobody as he stood and surveyed the inside of the shepherd’s hut, satisfied that he’d done everything he could to prepare it for whoever should need it next. He’d begun his tasks the previous day when he’d arrived, and finished them this morning. He’d hoped to come out here to do it sooner, but they were so busy at the ranch and had so many jobs to get caught up with that he knew he was lucky Abe had allowed the two days’ travel time for one of them to come on his own. The place still contained unpleasant memories for Victor, even though his sojourn here had ended happily, and so Yuuri had been the one to make the trip back to restock. It looked as if no one had been here since they’d gone, at least.

Attending to the mattress had been the most time-consuming task, though he’d brought a bag full of hay on Biscuit so that he would have less to gather once he was here. Just as he’d feared, the hay that had been inside the mattress had some mildew on the bottom, and Yuuri had washed the fabric in the creek until he’d removed as much of it as he could. He hung it out to dry overnight, sleeping inside the hut in his bedroll, his thoughts inevitably drifting back to the time he’d shared here with Victor, for which he already felt nostalgic.

In the morning after breakfast he’d poured more oil into the lantern, left a box of matches next to it on the shelf near the door, gathered more firewood, filled the cupboard with similar foods to those that had originally been there, visited the creek one last time to fill the tin pails with water, and donated a couple of his own spare utensils that he thought would help anyone trying to cook out here. Lastly he replaced _The Scarlet Letter_ , which he’d borrowed; he and Victor had both finished reading in snatched moments. Once the mattress was freshly stuffed and back in place, he took a last sentimental look around and opened the weathered old door to leave.

“Thank you,” he said, again to nobody.          

***

One other thing he’d done on his trip to the hut was drop by the Morrisons’ farm and ask them if they’d like to meet up for a meal that Saturday night at Rosarita’s, the Mexican grill and cantina in Larkspur that Chris had recommended. Yuuri also planned to have a word with his father about sending more business Herb’s way the next time he spoke to him, which would be rather more help to the Morrisons than a nice meal, but he didn’t see why they couldn’t do both. Herb and Jill said they’d love to come, and would arrange to leave the children with a neighbor. Yuuri also left a care package for Toby that included a chewbone, some food from the Chulanonts’ store, and a thick piece of rope as a tug-of-war toy.

The intervening days were spent as busily as the previous ones had been. Yuuri and Victor managed to visit the river a couple of miles down from the ranch to bathe and wash, and have some private time together, which felt like a blissful haven in the midst of all their other activities. Yuuri knew he could have made things easier on himself by practicing less, but he wanted to be ready for the rodeo. The trick riding – with or without Victor’s help, the gymnastics, and the ballet all took up a lot of time in addition to looking after cows and horses. He knew he was working Victor hard as his coach too, and made sure he regularly insisted that he could manage on his own, so that Victor wasn’t overextended as well. The truth was that Yuuri actually struggled at times and was regularly falling off of Biscuit as he attempted new and more complicated tricks, but he kept telling himself he would get the hang of things as he continued to practice.

Saturday night he rode out to Rosarita’s along with Victor and Chris, meeting Zach in Larkspur and the Morrisons at the grill and cantina. The four cowboys had agreed on a complicated arrangement after much haggling, where Yuuri would pay for the Morrisons’ meal and Chris would pay for Yuuri’s, as part of a belated thank-you for what Yuuri had done for him in the canyon. Yuuri had never been to Rosarita’s; it was owned and run by a Mexican family, and he was unfamiliar with both the food and the language, and so had never had any particular desire to be adventurous in that respect.

“You dunno what you been missin’,” Chris told him as they approached the yellow stucco-covered building painted with red, blue and orange rows of squares on the outside. Potted cactuses stood on either side of the door. The inside was just as colorful, with orange-painted walls featuring murals of Western scenes including cartoonish cowboys, horses and cactuses; wooden tables with blue- and yellow-painted chairs; and a busy bar with a stack of oaken casks of tequila nearby. This was clearly a favorite hangout for local vaqueros, and most of the clientele were speaking in Spanish.

Yuuri spotted the Morrisons at a table and introduced everyone; and Chris, being the one who was most familiar with the food on the menu, made suggestions for what to eat. They ended up ordering a smorgasbord of different items; and while they waited for dinner to arrive, they made small talk about life on the ranch, how different Chris found Wyoming to Texas, how the crops were doing this year, and other things that left Yuuri feeling boggled. He’d been the catalyst for this gathering, wanting to do something nice for people he respected and cared about, though when it came down to it he always ended up feeling lost in a large crowd of people, unsure of what to say. This time he tried very hard, feeling a sense of responsibility to help oil the social wheels where he could, but it was exhausting. Phichit had emphasized to him once that small talk was important because it could help to open a more interesting topic of conversation or move a relationship smoothly along, but Yuuri always had a hard time making himself care about who was dating who, or how well the wheat was growing, or what new store had opened in town. Victor, beside him, seemed to notice, and stroked his thigh. It was affectionate rather than provocative – a private way of communicating that he was there for Yuuri, or at least trying to be; and for that Yuuri was grateful.

Still, when Herb ordered several jugs of tequila for the entire table, insisting on paying for them himself, Yuuri was pleased to find a quick and easy way of relaxing at last. Victor seemed to enjoy the drink too, declaring it tasted surprisingly like vodka. The food was unlike anything Yuuri had ever eaten before, but he enjoyed it, especially when it had melted cheese inside or on top; and when he bit into anything that was spicy and coughed or choked, he laughed along with everyone else. An old story also came to mind that he told about a trip to Chicago he went on with his father when he was about ten years old, and he’d gotten separated and lost, and wandered into a saloon. A pretty lady with a white chest and lots of paint on her face had taken care of him until his father arrived, searching frantically for his son; at which Yuuri remembered the lady getting into an argument with him because she wanted him to pay her for her time, seeing as how she could have seen at least three other men while she’d been otherwise occupied. Yuuri hadn’t understood what was going on, but soon everyone in the saloon had been staring, and he remembered his red-faced father paying up just so they could get out of there. Yuuri had caught it from him later, too, like he never had in his life before. He ended the story with several more glugs of tequila, to the continued amusement of his audience.

“I think we better be gettin’ back,” Chris said eventually, when they’d finished most of the food and all of the tequila, plus an additional jug. They parted ways with the Morrisons, who Victor and Yuuri thanked again; and then the four cowboys made their way back to the middle of town to collect their horses. Yuuri found that his legs weren’t quite working like they ought to.

“Here, baby, lemme help you,” Victor said, putting an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders to prop him up; but then Victor stumbled himself.

“You’re a pair,” Chris laughed. “Come on, let’s see if you can both git up on your horses an’ ride without fallin’ off.”

This they managed to do, and they rode into the night, their horses reliably picking their way down the dark paths. They talked about what a nice couple the Morrisons were, and how good the food was and that they should go back sometime. About how clever their horses were to be able to find their way in the dark, though eventually Chris and Victor each slung a lantern on their horse’s saddle to be on the safe side. Then Yuuri added that dark places were good if you needed to sneak around a ranch with your boyfriend, and just like that a barrier came down between the four of them. What a bitch it was to have to do that, Zach agreed. What a goddamn pain in the ass. But it could be romantic too, in a way, and Chris said he’d always thought so.

“Boyfriend, hm?” Victor said next to Yuuri. He could just make out his silhouette in the night, dimly lit by Chris’s lantern.

“What else should I call you? My special friend? That guy I know who won’t keep his hands to himself?” He snickered, and Victor guffawed.

“ _Lover_ ,” Zach sang, drawing out the sound of it.                  

They laughed and joked until they arrived at the turn in the road to the Circle C. Chris said he was going on ahead with Zach; they were planning to grab a bedroll and have a night outside. Zach asked if he could have a quick word with Yuuri, and both of them dismounted and walked a short distance away, leading their horses by the reins.

“Look, Yuuri, I’m real glad things seem to be workin’ out for you and Victor. I know Chris told you a while ago about the little…arrangement the two of us have. I told him it was OK, though I can’t say as I was sure at the time that you were that way inclined. Us guys have got to stick together; folks can get pretty hostile if they find out, if you know what I mean.”

Yuuri took a moment to wrap the fuzziness inside his head around this, but thought he understood, and nodded. “Your secret’s safe with me, pard.” He patted Zach’s arm rather more forcefully than he meant to. “Don’t tell my dad, though,” he added conspiratorially. “He’d disown me – or at the very least, try to make me go to Sunday school every week.” They both laughed.

“No way I’d ever do that. Cross my heart.”

“You’re a good guy.”

“You too.”

They hugged each other quickly, then Yuuri said goodbye and led Biscuit back to where Victor was sitting on Luchik. Chris waved and said he’d see them tomorrow sometime, then was swallowed along with Zach by the dark.

Victor dismounted and leaned back against his saddle, looking at Yuuri. “You scored a definite success tonight,” he said. “Everyone had fun.”

Yuuri walked over to stand in front of him, draping his arms over his shoulders and around his neck. “I know how we could have _more_ fun.” He ran a finger down Victor’s cheek. “Why don’t we go out in a bedroll too?” His eyelids lowered seductively, and his lips ghosted against Victor’s.

“You are…” Victor paused and caught Yuuri’s lips with a kiss. “…very…” Another kiss. “…persuasive when you’ve been drinking. But we’re both drunk, and…” One more kiss. “…I think we’d be lucky to put everything in the right place, if we could even get it up.”

Yuuri’s brow furrowed. “But Chris and Zach – ”

“Had less to drink than us.”

Yuuri pouted, then tried again. Why was Victor being so impossible? He leaned forward and said in a low voice in his ear, “When will you fuck me, Victor?”

He heard a sigh, and then a hand guided his head around by the chin. Victor was giving him a calm and serious gaze, despite the alcohol. “I told you, baby – I’m waiting for what I need from the mail-order catalogue. We could try without it, but I don’t wanna hurt you,” he said, running his thumb along Yuuri’s lower lip.

Yuuri tried to think of something to say in response, but came up with a blank. On some level he knew Victor was trying to take care of him. “OK,” he said, and then tilted his head up for another kiss. It was hard to coordinate it, though, and Victor seemed to be struggling as well.

“We better get back to the ranch,” Victor said. “It’s a good thing our horses are more sensible than us, or I’d have to lie down right here ’til morning.”

***

Both of them coped with the inevitable hangover the next day; it was a regular occurrence anyway for many men in the bunkhouse on a Sunday morning. Yuuri found that he wasn’t very clear on the details of what had happened after his fourth or fifth shot of tequila from the jug on the table, but he’d been left with the impression that it had been a good night. For some reason he got a warm feeling inside when he thought about riding with Chris and Zach, as if they’d shared something meaningful together; though what it was had slipped away from his knowledge, and he was too embarrassed to ask Victor. It was annoying to draw a blank like this about times when he’d been drunk – almost as annoying as the hangovers. He promised himself to lay off the booze, though it was a promise he’d made and broken too many times to count.

Once he’d recovered, it was straight back to riding practice and exercising that afternoon and evening. The following days saw them moving cows to new pastures in wet and windy weather, which was followed by a heatwave so oppressive that all the ranch hands felt like doing was lying around and drinking water from the pump outside. Abe Connor seemed to be lenient when temperatures crept this high, though sometimes actually getting in the saddle and riding at a speed where a breeze blew at your face was a relief of its own. Yuuri and Victor made a half-hearted attempt at sex in the stable, but were soon so hot and exhausted that they gave up with sheepish smiles and just lay in the hay for a while. Finally the heatwave was broken by a spectacular thunderstorm that soaked the land and created temporary muddy rivers, reminding Yuuri uncomfortably of Victor’s accident the last time they’d experienced such weather.

One day while the two of them were out herding on the open range, separated from the other ranch hands by a considerable distance, Victor beckoned to Yuuri and led Luchik over to a ramshackle building tucked into a copse of trees, which appeared to have once been a shed or small hut. The roof had holes in it, and the wood-planked walls sagged. It looked like the kind of rural ruin that artists thought was possessed of a dilapidated charm in the midst of grassy fields, blue skies and mountains beyond. That being so, Yuuri still didn’t fancy actually going inside.

“Is something wrong?” he asked Victor as they dismounted and tethered their horses to an ancient hitching post nearby.

“Not at all,” Victor replied, pulling the door to the building open. It hung off of one hinge.

“Is it safe to go in there?”

“It was the last time I was here. It’ll give us some privacy.”

Yuuri followed him cautiously inside. “If this is your idea of a place for a date, I’m not sure how impressed I am,” he laughed. There were no windows and no furniture, just a wood-planked floor and bare walls that leaked sunbeams in stripes. One of them fell across Victor’s hair, giving it an otherworldly glow, continuing down his vest and pants to spill over the floor. The rest of him was in deep shadow. Yuuri felt a hand on his cheek.

“I just remembered today that this place was out here,” Victor said, his voice growing husky. “The other men don’t bother with it. They won’t miss us for a while.”

Yuuri felt a mixture of desire and some other feeling he couldn’t quite place; it was faintly repulsive, like stepping in something unpleasant. The building was creepy, even if it did give them some privacy. And was he really up for a “quickie”, or whatever Victor was planning, out here? It all felt rather sudden and…well, desperate, and not in a good way.

“Victor…” he began hesitantly. But then he felt, more than saw, fingers gently lifting his hat off and tossing it to the side, then curling into the front of his bandanna. Another hand running up his shirtsleeve, across the top of his vest, and over to the top of his collar, undoing the first couple of buttons. Victor moved closer so that they were pressed together, and Yuuri felt his breaths against his skin as Victor moved his lips across his jaw and up to his ear with the gentlest of touches. He was surprised at how quickly he was hard and trembling.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Victor whispered in his ear. “Maybe I can help you relax.” He untied Yuuri’s bandanna and dropped it to the floor, then moved the top of Yuuri’s shirt out of the way and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the hollow of his neck. Yuuri tilted his head back and let out a moan. How did Victor do this to him so easily?

Yuuri pulled him closer still, and they shared a searing kiss while their hands caressed and grasped and explored. Soon they were grinding their hips together, with Yuuri’s back to the wall, and the little building was full of moans, gasps, whines and muffled cries. Victor reached a hand down between them and drew Yuuri out, stroking him firmly. Trying to think through the waves of pleasure that were threatening to drown him, Yuuri did the same to Victor. They panted and moaned against each other’s mouths, managing an occasional kiss, their movements becoming quicker and increasingly frantic.

As he shuddered and spilled over Victor’s hand, Yuuri heard himself gasp out a string of curse words that some distant part of him was surprised at. He had the presence of mind to continue stroking Victor to his orgasm, drinking in his cries and the erotic feel of the warm liquid that now coated his own hand. They kissed as their breathing slowed, and Victor slid his wet fingers through Yuuri’s, lacing them together. Yuuri ghosted a sigh across Victor’s cheek, feeling a spark of desire despite his body being replete.

Soon they had cleaned up and rearranged themselves, with the help of a towel from Victor’s saddlebags, and were back out on the open range on their horses. Yuuri found himself wondering if it had all been a dream or hallucination. What they had just done had been sensual, satisfying, even fun in a way – but it also felt seedy somehow. They hadn’t even said much to each other. He responded to the dark and knowing smile Victor gave him with one of his own, but also promised himself that he would try to untangle the mess of feelings inside and work out what was bothering him.


	25. Chapter 25

The following morning, Yuuri was practicing one of the more difficult tricks he was learning: swinging to the side of Biscuit’s saddle, then pulling himself underneath and up the other side. He wanted to be able to do it at speed, without touching the ground, but was having trouble putting his legs in the correct positions at the right times. On this try, with Biscuit at a canter, his foot got stuck in the strap and he found himself hanging too far down, unable to complete his maneuver, his other foot dragging along the ground until he could get Biscuit to stop. He’d been here before; it felt like he was regressing somehow, rather than making progress. The whole session today had been disastrous so far.

Victor was in his customary position, standing in the entrance to the stable and watching. He had dispensed with the duster coat in the hot weather, but wore the usual tan-colored pants, boots, vest and Stetson, and white shirt. One arm was across his chest, propping the other one up by the elbow, and he rested a finger against his lips, appearing to be deep in thought.

“I know what I did wrong,” Yuuri muttered, dusting himself off and preparing to remount Biscuit.

“Yuuri…” Victor called. Yuuri turned to look at him; his expression was gentle. “Sometimes there are days when things just don’t go the way you want them to for whatever reason. You’ve been working on that trick all morning. Why don’t we leave it for now and try something else?”

“I know I can do this,” was Yuuri’s response. Back on Biscuit, he guided her into a canter again, then took a deep breath and began lowering himself to the side of the saddle. He knew he needed to do this in a fluid movement, without pause; but he paused now, struggling to find the handhold he needed to pull himself directly underneath the saddle. Finally grasping it, he began to make his way down, lost his grip, and rolled onto the ground with a thud that knocked the breath out of him. He lay still for a minute until the pain in the leg he’d landed on subsided, then stretched it to make sure he hadn’t been injured. Biscuit slowed to a stop and stood looking at him almost reproachfully, if that was possible.

“Yuuri,” came Victor’s voice again. Yuuri stood, anger and frustration and embarrassment coursing through him – and then he suddenly deflated, realizing he’d been about to take them out on his coach, his friend, the man he loved. What was wrong with him?

“I – I think I’d better stop for today,” he said in a choked voice as he dusted himself off again and led Biscuit past Victor to her stall in the stable, where he put some hay out for her.

Victor came over and leaned on the door to the stall, watching him. “Is something bothering you?” he asked quietly.

“No.” He shoved more hay into the trough. “Yes. I…don’t know.” He folded his arms across his chest, leaning against the wall of the stall behind him. Victor was right about there being days when nothing went the way you wanted them to.

The stall door opened and Victor came inside, then put an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders. When he didn’t protest, Victor enveloped him in a hug and kissed the top of his head. “Do you want to tell me about it?” he asked. “Something seems to have been distracting you.”

Yuuri tilted his head back and swallowed, knowing the answer but unsure of what to say; perhaps it would be better not to say anything at all. But no – this was Victor, and he wanted to trust that he could be honest with him, or at least try. “It’s you,” he said in a small voice, looking down. “You’re distracting me.”

There was a pause. “Me?” Victor said, stepping back.

“Well, not in a bad way…” Yuuri said hastily, struggling to express it so that Victor could understand. He wasn’t sure he understood himself. He folded his arms across his chest again. “How do I say this?” He paused and thought. “Victor, I’ve never done these things before. I’ve never been in a relationship. So I guess I’m having trouble…adjusting.” He picked a piece of straw out of Biscuit’s trough and pulled at it distractedly, still looking down rather than at Victor. “You know, we’re around each other a lot of the time, and now we’ve got this new thing going on. Don’t misunderstand me – ” He looked at Victor, who returned his gaze steadily, though there was surprise in his eyes. “ – I’m glad it happened. It’s been wonderful. But there are a lot of things I need to concentrate on – my work on the ranch, practicing all the things I do here at the stable – and sometimes all I can think about is…having sex with you,” he finished with a blush.

“I won’t complain about that,” Victor said with a grin, his eyes twinkling.

Yuuri sighed again and tossed the straw away. “But we can’t do it all the time. I mean, we can’t even do it _some_ of the time, sometimes.” He shook his head. “I’m not making any sense, am I? It’s just…hard to find the time and the privacy, isn’t it?” He turned to look again at Victor, caressing the top of his arm. “I wake up in the morning, and you’re there – but you’re in your own bed, apart from me. I see you open those beautiful blue eyes, and you say good morning, and I love it. But…it’s frustrating too.”

The expression on Victor’s face softened. He placed his hand over Yuuri’s and stroked it.

“And we’ve always got to be on the lookout for people who might accidentally…interrupt us,” Yuuri continued, and then paused. “Have you ever actually had to hide underneath that blanket of yours because someone came in when you were…you know?” The question was out before he thought about it – did he really want to start asking about Victor’s past love life now?

“No,” Victor said simply.

“OK. Well, I suppose you must be used to all this, but the sneaking around is hard. I’m sorry, but it’s true.” He gave Victor an imploring look. “I love what we do – I want you to know I’m happy being with you anywhere. It’s not that.” He ran his hand down Victor’s arm and squeezed his hand before dropping his own to his side. “I just wish we weren’t desperate enough to have to go to places like that old building that’s falling down. I swear I thought the roof was going to collapse on us.” He managed a weak chuckle. “Doing all this stuff…makes it feel like we’re getting up to something criminal.”

“Well, technically – ”

“I know,” Yuuri cut him off. He sighed. “I guess it’s just going to take some getting used to on my part. But I want to make this work, Victor. Really.”

Victor was silent and still for a moment, as if deciding what to say. The sound of Biscuit munching her hay filled the stall. Yuuri gave her neck an affectionate pat.

“I’ve never thought of some of these things like that before,” Victor admitted. “I guess I thought we had it easy compared to Chris and Zach, on separate ranches. They’ve been together for several years. But what works for them won’t necessarily work for everybody. I know it’s frustrating when we want to…be together, and can’t. Believe me,” he said with a chuckle, “I’ve already had months of that. I wanted you so much, Yuuri. I still do. But you’re right – we’ve got to focus on other things too, and sometimes sneaking around is all we’re going to be able to do.”

“I know,” Yuuri said again quietly. “And it’s better than nothing.”

Victor took his hat off and put it on a nearby shelf. “Does it help for me to admit I’m adjusting too?” Yuuri looked at him in surprise. “I think it’ll be important for us to be honest and communicate – like we are now. For example, do you remember when I told you to tell me if I did anything you didn’t like?” The memory of the context in which Victor had said those words brought a flush to Yuuri’s cheeks, and Victor smiled. “Well, that applies to more than just the bedroom, or the bunkhouse, or what have you. If you didn’t like going to that old building yesterday, or there’s anything about what we did that bothered you, we won’t do it again.” He gave the underside of Yuuri’s chin a caress with the tips of his fingers. “OK? You just need to tell me.”

Yuuri felt like his insides were melting, and the warmth suffused him to the tips of his fingers and toes. How had he ended up with someone so wonderful? “OK,” he agreed. “There was just one more thing.” Victor raised an eyebrow. “Um…well, it’s a request, I guess you could say.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He swallowed. “I’d like to spend some time with you someplace nice where we don’t feel rushed, and no one’s likely to disturb us. Just you and me…” He ran a finger down Victor’s shirt. “…relaxed and slow, with no need to worry about getting done before we get caught. I want to find out what that’d be like. I’ve…been imagining it.”

Victor took Yuuri’s hand, raised it, and kissed the outsides of his fingers. “I like that idea,” he said softly. “Maybe we can pick a night to camp out in a bedroll, sometime soon, if the weather looks good. We’ll make love to each other under the stars.”

Yuuri just grinned up at him like a fool, loving the sound of it. Victor bent down and gave him a lingering kiss.

“Now, speaking as your coach, Mr. Taylor, I’m ordering you to take the rest of the morning off before you try any more practice.”

“Got it, coach,” Yuuri agreed with a smile.            

***

“Hey, pard,” Chris said, pulling up a chair next to Victor’s bed in the bunkhouse. It was a quiet evening, and Victor was propped with his back against the wall, his shirtsleeves rolled up and the buttons in front partially undone, as he relaxed in the heat. He had been reading a book in Russian by the light of a lantern next to him, which he now put down. His feet were bare, and he’d been taking occasional sips from a canteen tucked next to his pillow.

“Hi, Chris. What’s up?”

“Just thought I’d come over an’ visit for a while. Where’s Yuuri? You two ain’t had a fight, have ya?”

Victor glanced at Yuuri’s empty bunk. “No, he’s exercising in the stable.”

“In the dark? When it’s this hot? How come you’re drivin’ him so hard, hey?” Chris laughed. “Mebbe this coachin’ thang’s gone to yer head.”

“He’s driving himself hard. Too hard sometimes, I think. I keep telling him that, but well…that’s how he prefers to do things.”

“Hmm. I gotta say I ain’t never seen no one work as hard as he does. Sure puts _me_ to shame, an’ I ain’t doin’ all them fancy tricks. So how come ya ain’t out there with him?”

“I’ve had a long day. Besides, he likes some time to himself once in a while.” He sighed and stretched. “You heard from Zach lately?”

“Yeah, I seen him last Saturday down at the Wagon Wheel. Thangs are about the same as always.” He pulled a small flat-sided glass bottle out of a deep vest pocket, which was half-full of an amber liquid, and pulled the cork out of the top. “Ya partial to a little tarantula juice afore ya hit the hay?”

He handed the bottle to Victor, who took a sip and coughed, then laughed. “One of Lennie’s finest, is it?” he said, handing it back.

“Recommended by the man himself,” Chris said with a nod, taking a swig. “Hey, whatcha got down there?” He pointed to the floor, where Yuuri’s stuffed rabbit sat.

“Ah. That’s Cookie. Yuuri won him at the Larkspur rodeo. Or is it a she? I’m not sure.”

“Cookie? Christ,” Chris chuckled, swigging more whiskey. “So how’s thangs goin’ with the two of yuhz these days, anyhow?”

Victor chose his words carefully, happy to share with his friend to an extent, but keeping the most intimate details back. He told him about helping Yuuri practice for the rodeo, both of them exercising in the stable, and struggling to find the time and opportunity to sneak away somewhere private. It was bothering Yuuri in particular, he said, though he had to admit he found it frustrating too – and he knew it was going to get worse later in the year when the cold weather settled in. “I don’t know how you stay patient yourself,” Victor concluded, looking at Chris as he accepted the whiskey bottle for another sip.

“I guess we’re just used to how thangs are.” He eyed Victor. “I thought you was, too, come to think of it. Ya never complained about this stuff with the last guy ya were seein’ – what was his name? Jeff?”

“Yeah, well…that was different,” Victor said as he passed the whiskey bottle back. “ _Yuuri’s_ different.” He grinned, and his eyes were bright. “I’ve never felt like this about anybody before.”

Chris stared. “Wow,” he finally managed. “Ya got it bad.” He took a last sip of whiskey and tucked the bottle back into his vest pocket.

“I got it good,” Victor laughed.

“So have yuh taken him on a date anywhere nice yet, or do the two of yuhz spend all yer spare time exercisin’ out there in the stable?”           

“We go into town sometimes.”

“You’re a real Romeo then. Come on, I know you’re a romantic at heart. Why the hesitation?”

Victor’s cheeks turned pink. “I’ve been waiting for some almond oil in the mail. It can take a while to get here – it comes from California – but it’s the best thing I’ve ever found for…you know.” He smirked. “My idea of a proper date, for now anyway, includes that. I think I’d die of frustration otherwise.” Though he didn’t really mean it; he would never force anything on Yuuri that he didn’t want.

“Shit, man, ya really do have it bad. Though I guess I kin understand. Yuuri’s one hot piece.”

“Now don’t you go eyeing up my boyfriend,” Victor said with a teasing note.

“Hey, I’m just tellin’ it like it is, an’ I know it when I see it. I’m surprised ya don’t try to keep him permanently drunk, the way he acts when he’s been liquorin’ up.”

“ _Chris._ ”

“Ya know, ya kin borrow some of my lube if ya want. I don’t mind sharin’.’

“Thanks, but no,” Victor said politely, feeling faintly repulsed.

“Ya told him any of yer stories yet about bein’ wined an’ dined an’ fucked by Russian army officers? Just wonderin’.”

Victor had trouble keeping up with Chris’s meandering chain of thought sometimes when his friend had been hitting the whiskey, though it was almost always guaranteed to be lewd. “No, I haven’t,” he said, his mouth quirking in a grin. “I’m not sure he’d want to hear them.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right about that. Shame – they’s some of the hottest thangs I ever heard.” Victor just looked at him, and he paused before saying in a more serious tone, “Yuhz are both bein’ careful, aintcha? People here at the ranch ain’t likely to cause too much fuss if they find out, but it’s the few exceptions who can make trouble, y’know?”

“I’ve never had any problems, but thanks,” Victor said.

“There’s a first time for everythin’, pard. I’d hate to see you two in a stew. Just keep an eye out, OK?”

Victor nodded; and after Chris said good night, he tried returning to his book, though he struggled to concentrate, and put it back down. His gaze settled on the dark window across from him but his mind looked beyond, imagining Yuuri exercising to the light of a lantern out in the stable – beautiful, graceful, and self-punishing. Victor sometimes wondered if encouraging him to compete in the Fort McKinley rodeo had been a good idea. It had given Yuuri something to focus on, but he also seemed to be anxious about getting ready in time; though Victor had every confidence that if Yuuri competed _now_ , let alone in several weeks, he would win. He wished Yuuri could have that kind of confidence in himself too.  

Should he have joined Yuuri out there and done some practicing himself – or found out if Yuuri was in the mood for some intimate time together? Sometimes it was hard to know what to do for the best. Victor considered, not for the first time, whether the map of their future relationship was being etched by the patterns they were gradually settling into, like Chris and Zach’s had been, or whether something different awaited them. Was this how they wanted to continue to live? Working with the horses was a joy to Victor, and he knew that Yuuri understood it and seemed to feel it himself; but with living and working on a ranch came other compromises, risks, and frustrations. What did Yuuri ultimately want? For that matter, Victor wasn’t sure what the answer to that question was for himself either – not yet, though vague ideas had begun to form in his mind. That Yuuri might decide at some point that his apprenticeship was at an end – or let his father decide it for him – and leave the Circle C was not a possibility he wanted to dwell on.

He decided some sleep would do him good. Lowering the wick of his lantern until it was extinguished, he stripped down to his drawers and got under his blanket. His head had hardly touched the pillow before he heard the sound of someone approaching, and then “Good night, Vitya” was whispered in his ear by a voice he knew well. It was followed by a light caress of his cheek, and then a soft kiss, before Yuuri moved away.

Victor felt a blissful tingle down his spine as he lay in the darkness. “Good night, _zvezda moya_ ,” he said in the direction of Yuuri’s bunk, smiling to himself.


	26. Chapter 26

“So what are all those things in your bag?” Yuuri asked. He and Victor were riding their horses out of town the following Saturday evening, after having visited several stores as well as Fred Mueller for some minor repairs to Yuuri’s saddle. “I saw you buying a load of stuff at Phichit’s dad’s store.”

“Things for dinner tonight.”

“Really? You’re not planning on eating at the cook shack?”

“Yuuri,” Victor admonished him gently, “when I suggested we camp out tonight, I had it in mind that we’d do it properly. Besides, you cooked for us both at the shepherd’s hut, so I owe it to you.”

Yuuri laughed. “You don’t owe me anything, Victor.” He gave Victor a look that he hoped said what was in his heart: _You’ve done so much for me already._

“In that case, I’ll keep this lovely bottle of brandy I bought off Lenny all to myself.”

“Now that’s not fair,” Yuuri said, laughing again. “Are you going to tell me what’s on the menu tonight, then?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Of course. OK.” A happy grin remained on his face as the made their way down the familiar dirt track from town that would eventually lead to the Circle C. There was more traffic than usual today; several other riders went past, as well as an ox cart and a covered wagon heading west. Then the grin melted off Yuuri’s face as a stagecoach followed it, traveling along the well-worn ruts in the road that perfectly fit the distance between its wheels.

 _It’s OK,_ Yuuri told himself, though he quickly looked away as it passed. _They come along here all the time. This isn’t like before – there’s no danger; I’m just riding with Victor, and we’ll be back at the ranch soon._ He took several deep breaths and continued to think to himself in this way as he rode Biscuit. It wasn’t that he’d been made to feel anxious by the stagecoach itself; rather that he was afraid of some unforeseen reaction that would be pulled out of him, like last time, leaving him raw and exposed. But when he held his hand up in front of him, it was steady, and he didn’t feel any sense of panic welling within him. _You’re OK…You’re OK._

“Yuuri,” came Victor’s voice next to him, “is something wrong?”

Yuuri glanced over and saw that Victor was looking at him with a concerned expression. “No, I’m fine.”

There was a pause; then, “Are you sure?”

Yuuri gave him a smile. “Yeah.” He left it at that, and was thankful that Victor didn’t try to pursue the issue any further.

They stopped briefly at the Circle C to drop things off and pick up supplies for the night, including a bedroll and a tent if the weather turned bad. Most of the other ranch hands had already gone into town for the evening. A warm, gentle breeze blew as Yuuri and Victor rode away from the ranch; they soon left the road, Victor veering off toward empty land and Yuuri urging Biscuit to follow. They travelled for a couple of miles until Victor stopped near a small wood where a stream splashed and gurgled. The westering sun sent butter-yellow beams through the leaves overhead, which glowed bright green.

“This place is beautiful,” Yuuri said in an awed voice as he looked around. If he had planned to camp out for pleasure himself, he couldn’t have picked a better place. The ground here was flat and dry and soft with grass, the water nearby would provide for their needs, the trees gave them some shelter, and they were isolated enough that the chances of being disturbed by anyone were slim.

“I’m glad you like it,” Victor said as he dismounted and staked out Luchik. Yuuri did the same with Biscuit, then cleared a space for building a campfire and began gathering wood while Victor unpacked the bedroll and his cooking supplies, then fetched some water in a pail. Soon they were sitting next to each other on a good-sized log while Victor tended to their dinner, which was cooking in a pot hanging from the iron trivet he’d set up over the fire. Yuuri had helped peel the ingredients that had gone in – beets, carrots, potatoes, onions and garlic – but hadn’t been able to see what other things Victor had quickly tossed in; and it looked like he had still more in his bag. Intrigued, Yuuri leaned over the top of the pot and took a whiff of the steam rising up.

“That smells divine,” he sighed, his mouth watering.

“Just wait – the key ingredients come at the end,” Victor said, stirring the contents of the pot.

“What exactly is it?”

“Borscht. It’s a beet-based soup people eat where I come from. You’ve never had it?”

“My mom’s cooking’s never gone far beyond meatloaf and pot roast. I’ve always thought it’d be fun to try new things, but there’s not much opportunity for that out here. Though I wouldn’t say no to Mexican food again.”

“Well hopefully you won’t want to say no to borscht again either, after you’ve tasted it. I’m a bit out of practice with cooking. I’ve also run out of ground pepper – I don’t suppose you have any to spare in your bags?”

Yuuri fetched some, and they chatted while the soup cooked. Then Yuuri watched Victor brown some strips of beef in a pan, which he placed in two wide tin bowls. Next he ladled some soup into each one, then pulled an earthenware pot of something that looked like cream out of his bag and spooned some over the top, lastly adding a sprinkling of some kind of herb. “Sour cream and dill,” he explained as Yuuri looked at him curiously. “I didn’t know if I’d be able to find either one in town, but I got lucky.”

Yuuri tried a spoonful. “Oh my god, Victor, that’s amazing. I love it.”

Victor beamed at him. “Thank you. I thought it would be a nice treat.”

“It certainly is.” Yuuri made his way down to the strips of beef at the bottom and savored every last bite, sighing contentedly when he was done. Then Victor brewed some coffee and they sipped it from tin mugs as the sun went down, the dancing flames of the campfire playing over them both in warm, flickering hues.

“I’m not used to camping for fun,” Yuuri admitted as he finished his coffee. “It’s so peaceful out here.”

Victor splashed some water from his canteen into his mug, giving it a good rinse. Then he held the canteen out and Yuuri held his own mug underneath the flow. “I don’t think coffee-flavored brandy is my thing,” Victor said as he put his mug down and got the bottle he’d bought from his bag.

Yuuri chuckled. “Better than a lot of other things people put in it, I bet.”

“Say when.” Victor poured some for Yuuri, who accepted enough to enjoy without getting too tipsy, then helped himself. Yuuri watched reflections from the campfire in those wonderful blue eyes.

“So…what else did you have planned for tonight?” Yuuri asked as he sipped the brandy, which tasted just how a top-notch brandy should; it had obviously not been watered down or doctored, as was often the case.

“Hm, you’ll see. Though of course my intention was to camp out here ’til morning.” He glanced up at the gap in the trees above them. “Looks like the weather’s going to cooperate after all. I can see a few stars twinkling.”

Yuuri just watched him as he drank his brandy, a flush of pink spreading across his cheeks that he knew was partially to do with the alcohol and partially to do with the man sitting next to him. He was looking forward to a point, hopefully not far into the future, when he felt more confident about taking a lead in their relationship from time to time – coming up with ideas for dates, initiating encounters, even guiding their sex. The latter thought made his blush deepen. His inexperience had been frustrating him, but he’d been taking mental notes from what Victor had been doing, and thought he could probably summon the courage to try some things out himself soon – and if he took Victor by surprise, even better. Tonight, however, he was allowing himself to enjoy being thoroughly and unashamedly spoiled, just as Victor obviously intended.

When he finished his brandy, Yuuri thanked Victor for it and filled a pan with water from the creek, which he hung on the trivet to heat while he stoked the fire; then they washed their cooking things and utensils and left them out to dry. After all this was done, Yuuri rolled and lit a quirly. Victor got up and fetched his sheath knife and a stone from his saddlebags and sat back down to hone the knife while Yuuri smoked. Yuuri was almost certain Victor was trying and not succeeding very well to stop himself from scowling.

“What?” he asked, noting the concerned look on Victor’s face in the light of the slowly dying flames. Then something clicked in his mind, and he glanced down at his quirly. “Does it really bother you that much?”

There was a long silence while Victor continued to look unusually grave. Eventually he said in a low voice as he turned his head toward the fire, “Breathing smoke like that can’t be good for you.”

Yuuri huffed. “The doc’s OK with it. Most cowboys smoke once in a while.”

“Doctors don’t know everything.”

The memory of what Victor had told him about his father struck Yuuri forcefully. He stared down at the little burning stick in his hand like it was suddenly a bizarre object he’d only just noticed he was holding. “But it’s relaxing, you know?” As if to underline the point, or to display a bit of petulance at Victor’s criticism, he took a deep drag, tilted his head back toward the sky, and slowly blew out the smoke through his nostrils.

Victor raised his eyebrows, looking partially amused and partially affronted at Yuuri’s response to his words. Suddenly he said, “What if I told you I’d refuse to kiss you after you’d been smoking? For the whole evening?”

Yuuri’s mouth dropped open. “You wouldn’t,” he blurted. They continued to look at each other in silence, the tension of a challenge growing in the air between them. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” Victor just tilted his head slightly. Yuuri examined the cigarette in his hand again and came to a decision, crushing it out with the heel of his boot and tossing it away. “OK, Victor. You’re on. I don’t smoke that often, so it’s not a problem to quit.”

A smile crept across Victor’s face. Then he got up and replaced the knife and stone in his saddlebags, and took out a lantern and lit it. “Well now that’s settled, how do you feel about a dip in the stream over there?”

Yuuri quirked a smile. “At night?”

“Why not? We can find our way with this.” He held the lantern up. “And this stretch of the water looked safe earlier, so I don’t think we’d be in for any nasty surprises we can’t see.”

“OK,” Yuuri said, watching Victor pull some toiletries and towels out of his saddlebags. He’d come prepared for everything, it seemed.

When Yuuri got to the edge of the stream along with Victor, he pulled off his boots and socks, then slipped off his vest, placing everything in a pile. Victor did the same after putting down the lantern, but then stopped and closed the distance between them so that they were almost touching. “I think it would be fun to undress each other the rest of the way,” he said quietly, his lips inches from Yuuri’s. “Don’t you?”

Yuuri swallowed and nodded silently, and Victor reached around to the back of Yuuri’s neck to untie his bandanna, recalling memories from the shepherd’s hut that sent a wave of heat through him. He mirrored Victor’s movements, and thought Victor might meet him in the middle for a kiss, but he just nuzzled Yuuri’s face slightly; and Yuuri felt a pull of desire born of craving the contact but teasing one another instead as their breaths ghosted against each other’s cheeks and necks. Victor slowly unbuttoned Yuuri’s flannel shirt with his long, delicate fingers, looking into his eyes the entire time. Yuuri returned his gaze, feeling uncomfortable with staring like this but mesmerized at the same time. He undid the buttons at his cuffs, then Victor slid his hands over Yuuri’s shoulders and the material slipped down to the ground. Placing a hand on either side of his neck, Victor leaned forward and kissed Yuuri gently, playfully nipping and sucking at his top lip and then the bottom. Yuuri sighed into it and rested his hands on Victor’s hips.

“I could kiss you like this all night,” Victor whispered, “but there are other things I want to do too.” He moved down Yuuri’s neck, planting kisses as he went, adding little teases with teeth and tongue, then worked his way along his collarbone and around his chest, his hands exploring the planes of Yuuri’s muscles and the inward angle of his waist. He took his time licking and sucking each nipple in turn, eliciting gasps from Yuuri. The slow buildup of tension he was feeling as Victor worshipped his body was new and wonderful. He rested his hands on Victor’s shoulders as he gradually moved lower, hooking his fingers into Yuuri’s pants and drawers and pulling them down. Yuuri stepped out of them and kicked them aside, watching Victor on his knees in front of him and feeling an electric pulse that quickened his breathing further. Victor gave him a mischievous look and stroked Yuuri’s cock several times, then took the end into his mouth and sucked hard with a wicked swirl of his tongue, coming off with a popping sound. Yuuri’s knees buckled.

Victor stood and grinned. “Your turn?” he said, phrasing it as a question – or an invitation, while undoing the buttons of his own cuffs.

Yuuri looked at him for a moment, feeling oddly like he was about to unwrap a Christmas present, a thrill of anticipation coursing through him. He couldn’t recall ever actually saying anything to Victor before about what it was like just to take in the sight of him – it seemed so obvious how extraordinary he was; but he thought maybe he would still appreciate hearing it. “You’re so beautiful,” he said in awe, “it takes my breath away.”

Victor smiled at him in the half-light provided by the lantern, and Yuuri undid his shirt buttons one by one, unable to keep his fingers completely steady. As before, he and Victor simply looked into each other’s eyes. Beginning to find it difficult to stay patient as the tension coiled within him, Yuuri leaned forward and pressed urgent kisses to Victor’s chest, wrapping his arms around him tightly underneath the fabric of his shirt. Victor sucked in a breath and then sighed Yuuri’s name, threading his fingers through his hair. Yuuri was beginning to realize it would be a challenge for him to continue the slow seduction Victor seemed to want. They usually ended up being in a frenzied hurry to bring each other to completion, and Yuuri had reveled in it, enjoying and experimenting with his newfound sexuality. But he told himself that he was in control of his own actions, and he decided he wanted to savor the intimacy of the moment. How different would it be, how would it feel?

But it was difficult to do as he mouthed kisses and licked down the sculpted curves of Victor’s chest and abdomen, Victor’s breathy responses urging him on. Yuuri pulled his pants and drawers down slowly and gently, his fingers moving in a caress down Victor’s legs. As Victor kicked his clothes aside, Yuuri swallowed at the erotic sight in front of him – Victor’s long cock standing proud and ready, nestled in a small patch of curly hairs that were slightly darker than the silken ones on his head. Yuuri’s breath hitched, and he felt his own cock pulse as it hung heavy between his legs. God, he wanted this man so much. There was barely a rational thought left in his brain to cling on to – didn’t he promise himself something just now?

Regardless, he was keen to continue to mirror what Victor had done to him. He moved forward on his knees and reached out to grip Victor’s cock, hesitating at first – he’d never done this before. What would it be like? What if he wasn’t any good at it? But he was burning to try. He took Victor into his mouth, letting a moan escape him as he felt the slide of the warm flesh on his tongue. There was an answering moan from Victor, then a shuddering sigh. Encouraged, Yuuri sucked as he moved his head back, then experimentally laved his tongue around the smooth head, flicking it up and down the thin stretch of skin underneath.

Victor cried out and stepped back, gasping. Yuuri was afraid at first that he’d done something wrong, but one look at Victor’s face told him quite a different story.

“That was…a bit too good,” he said, smiling apologetically and raking his fingers through his hair. “I want to make this last.” He held out a hand to Yuuri, who took it and stood. “Maybe it would help if we both cooled down in the stream?”

“Sure,” Yuuri said, following him into the water, a heady feeling of power coursing through him. He wanted to do that again to Victor sometime soon, and carry on until he was totally undone.

The swirl of the water around his ankles was slightly ticklish, and he strained to see what he was doing until he got closer to Victor and the lantern he’d left on the bank next to them. The stream was fairly shallow, only coming up to their knees at its deepest point, and Yuuri splashed himself all over. The shock of it and the breeze on his wet skin blunted the edge of the desire that had been consuming him, and he felt himself start to relax. Victor was splashing next to him, and had picked up the soap.

“Would you like to do this together, or take turns?” he asked.

At the risk of stoking the fire within him again, Yuuri couldn’t resist the temptation to lather Victor’s body all over – what human being could? he wondered. A faint glow from the lantern on the ground illuminated him just enough to be seen, but here it was mixed with the white light of the moon, giving Victor’s hair and skin the hue of alabaster. Yuuri caressed it almost reverentially as he worked the suds around. The familiar delicate scent of roses filled the air. They took turns with the soap, and the ministrations of Victor’s fingers evoked a strange mixture of lassitude and desire in Yuuri. He was aware that they were touching each other in the most intimate places as they washed, and it was both unsettling and arousing, though their hands didn’t linger.

“Victor,” Yuuri said, his voice breaking the stillness around them in which the only sound had been the trickling water, “kiss me.”

Victor held his eyes for a moment, then put the soap down on the bank, wrapped his arms around Yuuri, and held him close. They were both still covered with lather, and Yuuri found the slide of their skin distractingly sensuous. He ran his hands up Victor’s back and across his shoulders, and Victor tilted his head down to capture his lips in a soft kiss. Loving the feel of the soap, Yuuri pressed his hips against Victor’s and thrust, their cocks slipping and gliding against each other; and both of them moaned. Yuuri hooked a leg around Victor’s and continued the motion in a slow slide; and as their kiss became more heated, he made little gasping and whimpering noises. Victor slipped his hands around and cupped Yuuri’s buttocks, kneading them, and panting against Yuuri’s lips.

“We’re never going to make it to the bedroll at this rate,” he said huskily, drawing his head back slightly.

With a smile, Yuuri stepped back, bent down and cupped some water in his hands, then decanted it over Victor’s shoulders. “Let’s cool off again then.” They rinsed each other, then washed one another’s hair with Victor’s cider vinegar and rosemary tea tonic. Once again Yuuri found himself sliding languorously back down from the peak of desire and simply relaxing into Victor’s gentle touch, enjoying the strange and wonderful scents lingering on his body from the potions they’d used. Then they were leaving the water and toweling off, Victor leading the way to his bedroll, which he’d laid out near the fire. They paused to tuck their clothes into their saddlebags, then Yuuri picked up some more wood and tossed it onto the embers while Victor lay watching him, the lantern a safe distance away on the ground. His eyes glinting in the glow of the flames, he grinned at Yuuri and held out an arm toward him.

“You look amazing,” he said. “Don’t ever put your clothes back on.”

Yuuri laughed and covered the short distance between them, lying down next to Victor and luxuriating in his body heat on one side, with the campfire warming him on the other. Soon Victor’s arms were around him. “Thank you for a wonderful evening. All these things you’ve done for me…it’s really been special.” He ran his fingers gently down Victor’s cheek.

“You say that like it’s over already,” Victor said with a smirk.

“Oh? Why, what else did you have in mind?” Yuuri returned teasingly.

He felt Victor’s fingers toying with the ends of his hair at the back of his neck. “Well…” He drew the word out in a seductive tone. “…there are lots of possibilities…especially now that I have something that will give us a few more.”

“You…oh,” Yuuri breathed, suddenly understanding.

“We could do something we’ve done before that you liked,” Victor continued, now caressing the nape of Yuuri’s neck, “or we could try something new?”

“I’d like that,” Yuuri said softly.

“You could take me, for instance…or I could take you. But,” he added, running his fingers along Yuuri’s jaw, “it’s up to you. If you wanted to lie here and snuggle until we fell asleep, I’d do that. Anything, Yuuri.”

Yuuri looked into the pair of blue eyes gazing at him, and his heart was so full of love that it felt like it would burst. But if Victor thought he wanted nothing more than to lie down and have a cuddle right now – if he really thought Yuuri could _stand_ it without going crazy – he was utterly mistaken. To prove his point, his eyes blazed and he kissed Victor hard, his tongue demanding and receiving access to Victor’s own, which touched and tangled with his. After a moment Yuuri propped himself up on an elbow, gasping and drinking in the hooded look of desire Victor gave him.

“Take me,” he told Victor. “I wouldn’t know what to do. And…I’ve wanted to feel you inside me for a long time now.”

Victor let out a breath. “Me too.”

Yuuri paused, a flutter of uncertainty in his stomach. “Will it hurt, the first time?”     

“It shouldn’t. We’ll need to make sure you’re prepared first, with a finger or two and some oil. If anything does hurt at any point, be sure to let me know.” He smiled up at Yuuri and cupped his cheek. “I only want to make you feel good.”

Yuuri smiled back, the flutter assuaged a little, though he knew he’d have to give over more trust to Victor than he had before. While to Yuuri this was just another kind of sex, it also seemed to be the most intimate kind, actually joining their bodies together – though the anticipation of it was also electrifying and deeply arousing. That made it even more important, he thought, to try to maintain an emotional connection with Victor instead of allowing himself to be helplessly washed along in the wake of sensation. He’d realized it was easy to let that happen particularly when he felt exposed and vulnerable; closing his eyes or focusing on physical pleasure meant he could pretend it wasn’t happening. But as long as he kept doing that, he knew they’d never achieve a deeper connection, and he wanted to find the courage to get as close to Victor as it was possible to be. 

“Yuuri…are you sure you’re OK with this?” Victor asked in response to his pause for thought.

“I want it more than anything,” Yuuri replied, tilting his head down to kiss Victor again. Just before their lips touched, however, he paused again. “You know, I liked how it felt when we were all soaped up in the stream. Could we maybe…use some of your oil now, so we can slide against each other again?” A blush crept across his cheeks but he held Victor’s gaze.

Victor’s eyes darkened. “Of course, _solnyshko_ ,” he said, disentangling himself from Yuuri momentarily and reaching over to the leather bag lying on the ground next to the bedroll. As he watched, Yuuri was caught between asking Victor what the Russian meant and simply enjoying the musical sound of it. He decided on the latter as Victor pulled a blue vial out of the bag and removed the cork. “Hold your hand out,” he said; and as Yuuri did, he poured some oil into his palm. Yuuri bent and sniffed; he thought he could smell lavender, and something spicy he couldn’t quite place – cinnamon maybe?

Then Victor poured some oil into his own palm and replaced the cork, nestling the vial in the grass next to him. He inched closer to Yuuri and took his cock in hand, slathering the oil over him; and Yuuri, after breathing a shaky sigh, did the same to Victor. They pressed against each other, embracing and caressing and entwining their tongues in a slow dance. At some point, one of them – Yuuri wasn’t entirely sure who – began to gently thrust against the other, and the glide of their cocks between their bellies transformed the simmering desire inside of him into burning heat. He began to move with more urgency, his legs lacing into Victor’s, his breaths coming so quickly that he struggled to sustain their kiss.

“Victor…I’m ready,” he whispered. “Please.”

Victor nodded. His face was flushed and his hair mussed from Yuuri’s fingers running through it, and Yuuri thought he was beyond beautiful in the firelight as he watched him pick up the vial again and move to a kneeling position between his legs.

“It’ll help if you can tilt your hips up,” he said quietly as he removed the cork, and Yuuri did so, as Victor guided one of his legs back so that it was folded against his chest. “Beautiful,” Victor breathed as he poured a little oil into his hand and slicked a finger with it, then put the vial back down. Yuuri felt Victor’s finger glide over his perineum and circle his entrance, the muscles of his abdomen tensing at the unexpectedly intense sensation, and in self-consciousness, as he focused on what Victor was doing. Victor took him in hand and began to stroke him, his placid eyes never leaving Yuuri’s, while his finger slid inside and began a slow in-and-out rhythm.

Yuuri felt himself tense further. It didn’t hurt, but it was unlike anything he’d ever done or felt before. He swallowed, his palms resting on the wool of the bedroll.

Victor blinked down at him, then let go of his cock and moved forward so that he was poised on top of Yuuri, resting on one forearm while his finger continued to work into him. “Try to relax, baby,” he whispered, his mouth hovering just above Yuuri’s own, his breath ghosting across his face. “That’s the best way to loosen up. I’m going to take good care of you.”

Yuuri felt most of the unpleasant tension melt away at Victor’s soothing words and the reassuring feel of his body against his own. He raised his head for a kiss and Victor met him, his lips soft and slow. The heat inside of him was kindling again into flames, and he decided that the feel of Victor’s finger moving inside of him was really quite sensual, once he allowed himself to forget about his reservations and enjoy it. He made a contented humming noise and began to move his hips in time with Victor’s hand.

“That’s it, baby,” Victor murmured against him. “God you’re sexy.” He pulled back and knelt once again between Yuuri’s legs, pouring more oil into his palm and slicking another finger, then rubbing the remainder over his own cock. As he gently slipped two fingers into Yuuri this time, he began to stroke him as before, and Yuuri moaned and canted his hips up.

“Victor…please,” he gasped.

“Almost there, I think,” was Victor’s husky response.

“ _Victor._ ”

He looked at Yuuri, releasing his cock and taking his own in hand. Yuuri watched him with hungry eyes. “OK. But tell me if it hurts.”

“I will. Now come here. I want you.”

Victor’s breath rushed out of him and he folded both of Yuuri’s legs back against his abdomen. The flex didn’t hurt, and Yuuri lifted his hips as far up from the bedroll as he comfortably could with Victor on top of him. They looked into each other’s eyes as he slowly began to push into Yuuri. There was a pinch and an uncomfortable stretch, and Yuuri’s eyes fluttered closed but he said nothing, letting the moments go by as the mild pain gradually washed into ripples of tingling pleasure. The feeling of fullness was strange and different; but when he thought about its cause, a wave of heat swept through him.

“OK?” Victor asked, continuing to look at him carefully.

“Wonderful,” Yuuri breathed, moving a hand up Victor’s cheek and through his hair.

He heard Victor sigh in what sounded like relief, and he pressed in until he was as deep as he could go. After a pause he began to thrust, slowly at first; then, as Yuuri closed his eyes and moaned, reaching around to dig his fingers into his back, speeding up. Yuuri bucked his own hips against him instinctively, both of them soon finding a rhythm that took them closer and closer to the edge as they gasped and panted and grappled together. Yuuri felt beads of sweat breaking out on his brow and noticed the same around Victor’s hairline. “Vitya,” he moaned.

“My Yuuri,” came the hoarse answer. “ _Ty takoy krasivi._ ” He suddenly shifted so that he was kneeling more than lying down, and lifted Yuuri’s hips, changing the angle of his thrusts, which were now harder and quicker. The sounds he made that accompanied his movements – a loud breath out, a gasp, a grunt – made Yuuri feel dizzy with power that he’d done this to him, and stoked his own desire to an aching need. He was more aware as well, at this angle, of a new sensation with every stroke. Yuuri had felt it vaguely before, but it intensified now, as if Victor’s cock was massaging a pleasure center inside of him that he’d never known was there and had just been waiting for the right touch to come alive. It was bewildering, and incredible. He felt himself speeding toward a precipice, and grasped at the bedroll underneath him as if to anchor himself. He was distantly aware of the throaty noises he was making. Victor was everywhere – inside of him and out, his gasps in his ears, the taste of him on Yuuri’s tongue, the glide of his hot, taut skin…and most of all, deep in his heart.

“Please, baby, will you open your eyes? I love to see your face when you come,” came Victor’s voice.

It was the grounding that Yuuri needed to return to the moment, as he’d originally promised himself he would. He opened his eyes to the erotic sight of Victor thrusting into him, his chest heaving, lips parted, bangs flopping across his face. Then he met that bright blue gaze and locked with it, determined to hold on despite the waves of sensation that were threatening to wash him away. He felt impossibly more exposed to Victor than he already was physically, as if he were opening long-hidden secrets that he’d been afraid to ever let anyone else see – anxiety, doubt, self-consciousness, and also the love he felt for this wonderful man and his gratitude that he was now part of his life.

With an inner jolt of surprise, Yuuri discovered this wasn’t a one-way connection either. As he lost himself in the depth of Victor’s eyes, he thought he found desire there, and vulnerability, and…love as well?

Then Victor wrapped a hand around Yuuri’s cock, and he could focus on nothing other than being stroked and penetrated. It was too much to bear – deliciously overwhelming; and as he teetered on the edge of bliss, he forced himself to continue to look into that pair of blue eyes that had mesmerized him from the first time he’d seen them. He cried Victor’s name as his orgasm pulsed through him.

After several more pounding strokes, Victor let out a loud moan, and Yuuri thought it was the most awe-inspiring thing he’d ever seen – Victor coming undone in front of him, his mouth dropping as if in surprise, his eyes wide, his expression one of ecstasy that looked almost like pain. As Yuuri drank it all in and rode the waves of his own release, it seemed as if time had stopped. He felt warm and complete, like everything in this moment was so utterly _right_ just as it was. And as he continued to look at Victor, who had collapsed onto his arms over Yuuri and was still gazing back, it felt as if all remaining barriers between them had evaporated and they were blurring into each other so that Yuuri couldn’t tell where one of them began and the other ended. None of their previous couplings had been like this. It was overwhelming…frightening…sublime. 

“Yuuri,” Victor whispered, nuzzling his cheek as Yuuri wrapped his arms around him. This was followed by something in Russian. Again Yuuri relished the lovely sound, but was curious and asked Victor what he had said.

Victor smiled and huffed slightly. “Sometimes it’s just easier to say things that way. I said you’re beautiful and perfect.” He caressed Yuuri’s cheek. “You are, baby, you are,” he said quietly. “That was so intense just now, I…I’ve never felt anything like it.”

Yuuri blushed. “Me either. But then, you knew that.” He gave a small laugh. “I…um, would like to do this again. Lots of times.” He smiled. What he’d been about to say – started to say – was _I love you_ , which felt as natural as breathing. But he was still too afraid of what Victor’s response would be, or if it was too early yet. What _would_ be the right time to say it?

Victor moved to lie down next to him, then gathered him into his arms. Yuuri nestled his head in the crook of his neck and idly caressed his chest. “So would I,” Victor said. “When we get the chance. We’ll have to make sure we do.”

“Yeah.” Yuuri breathed in Victor’s scent, which had asserted itself somewhat against the rose soap, cider vinegar, and lavender oil after their exertions. It was his favorite by far, because it was quintessentially _Victor_. His heart was so full that it felt like it was spilling over and imbuing the rest of him with warmth and contentment the like of which he’d never known. If someone had told him a year ago that another person could make him feel like this, he would have found it impossible to imagine. And now Victor had actually been inside him; the wetness seeping between his legs was a lingering reminder of that. He wondered for a moment what it would be like to do the same to Victor – to push into his tight heat and claim him; help bring him to bliss. The thought was both frightening and incredibly arousing. Maybe in time, when he felt more confident, Yuuri decided.  

They cleaned up with a towel and got into Victor’s bedroll together, and Yuuri’s consciousness began to drift as he snuggled into Victor’s arms, the only noises around them the chirping of crickets in the grass, the gentle soughing of the leaves above in the breeze, and the crackling of the dying campfire. He thought he heard Russian again, as if in a song drifting in snatches to him from the distance; and the sound of it lulled him softly to sleep.

***

_Rough men’s voices shouting outside. Why had they stopped? Then came the loud pops – were those guns? – and now there was screaming inside as well as out. Yuuri strained to see out the window, but he wasn’t high enough, and he felt hands pulling him away. Doors were flung open as the passengers tried desperately to get out and escape. None of them made it without being riddled with bullets. They were lying on the ground, bright crimson running in rivulets from their bodies into the parched earth. Then there were hands grabbing – how many? Yuuri couldn’t tell – and the woman whose arms encircled him fell on top of him, the dead weight of her crushing him to the floor._

Yuuri screamed in terror and his eyes shot open. Dark, dark, everything was dark. “ _Okasan! Iie! Iie!_ ” He didn’t know how many times he said it, but it didn’t change what had happened. Run – he had to run. But where could he go, when death awaited outside? He couldn’t even move. “ _Tasukete!_ ” Something was still confining him. He had to get away. He began to struggle to get out.

“Yuuri!” a voice called. An arm stretched across his chest and gripped his shoulder firmly.

“ _Hanase!_ ” He redoubled his efforts, tears streaming down his face as he fought for his life. The person next to him now used his body to restrain him, his weight bearing down on him and his legs pinning him. He was strong.

“ _Yuuri!_ Can you hear me? It’s Victor!”

Something made Yuuri pause, though his mind was still in turmoil. He knew he had to get away, but he knew that name too. Knew that he could trust the person it belonged to.

“You’re here with me – you’re safe. Look – see?”

The person shifted his weight and limbs and turned briefly away. There was a flare, and a soft light fell over Yuuri’s immediate surroundings. He saw that he was inside a bedroll. And…yes, it was Victor next to him, looking at him with worry and confusion on his face. His Victor. His Victor – who’d just witnessed the deepest, most embarrassing secret Yuuri had carried with him since he was seven years old. _Oh god._

“Jesus,” Yuuri choked out, wiping a hand over his sweaty forehead. Still feeling unbearably confined, and fearing what Victor would make of the display he’d just seen, he scrambled out of the bedroll, grabbed a fresh towel from his saddlebags, and quickly made his way to the stream with nothing but the moonlight to guide him.

“Yuuri!” he heard Victor call again as he slipped into the cooling water. He splashed himself all over, hoping that some of the panic and fear might be washed away along with the sweat that was pouring off of him. His heart was hammering in his chest fit to burst, and tears still leaked from the corners of his eyes. Images from the nightmare – if you could call it that, because those things had really happened, he knew – still rose up unbidden in his mind. He shivered as he splashed more water over himself.

“Yuuri.” The voice was deep and soothing, drawing out the sound of his name. It came from nearby, and a moment later Victor was entering the water. Yuuri took a series of deep breaths, focusing on the balm of his presence. A tentative hand fell on his shoulder. “ _Vsyo budet khorosho_. It’s OK.”

Forcing the fading images out of his mind, Yuuri took one more shuddering breath and focused on his surroundings, and on the man standing next to him in the water. They’d come out here to camp. Victor had cooked him a beautiful meal…borscht, that was what he’d called it. Shared brandy with him. They’d washed together in the stream. And then… _oh_. A tingle ran through him. The memories of the wonderful evening they’d shared, and of the warmth and contentment in his heart after they’d made love, rose up in Yuuri collectively with the ferocity of a lion to chase the shadows away. Finally he was fully in the moment, feeling drained as his heartbeat gradually slowed.

“Victor,” he said quietly, turning to him and embracing him tightly. Victor’s arms encircled him, and Yuuri felt him kiss his wet hair. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“There’s no need to be,” Victor replied, stroking his hair now and placing a soothing kiss on his brow.

“You must’ve thought I’d gone crazy or something.”

“I was just worried. You seemed very…frightened. Did you have a nightmare?”

“I guess…in a way.” He pulled back a little and looked at Victor. There was no condemnation in his eyes; no shock or revulsion. Just genuine concern. “I never wanted you to see me like this. It’s…embarrassing.” He took a breath and swallowed. “I guess I have some explaining to do.”

“You don’t have to – ”

“Yes,” Yuuri said, placing a finger on Victor’s lips to silence him, “I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Okasan! Iie! Iie!_ = Mother! No! No!  
>  _Tasukete!_ = Help!  
>  _Hanase!_ = Let go of me!
> 
> I like to imagine that the following recipe is similar to what Victor cooks in the story – and what the Russians eat in the anime. This recipe from the Hairy Bikers is delicious, IMO, and it’s simple to make. The sour cream and dill, regular staples of Russian cuisine, are the pièce de résistance; I would call them essential rather than optional.
> 
> Borscht ( _serves 6 – I make half this amount_ )
> 
>  _Ingredients_  
>  1 tbsp vegetable oil or 15g (1/2 oz.) butter ( _n.b. I use a lot more fat than this_ )  
> 3 medium-sized beetroots (about 450g, unpeeled weight), diced  
> 1 large carrot, diced ( _n.b. I’m generous with the veg, as I like a bulky, filling soup._ )  
> 1 stick of celery, diced  
> 1 large potato, diced  
> 1 onion, finely chopped  
> 2 garlic cloves, finely chopped  
> 1 ½ liters (2 ¾ pints) beef stock (broth)  
> ½ a green cabbage, finely shredded  
> 2 tomatoes, peeled and chopped  
> Flaked sea salt  
> Freshly ground black pepper
> 
>  _To serve_  
>  300g (10 ½ oz.) sirloin steak ( _n.b. I double this, or it doesn’t work out to much per person_ )  
> Sour cream or crème fraiche (optional)  
> 1 tbsp fresh dill
> 
>  _Instructions_  
>  Heat the oil or butter in a large heavy-based saucepan. Add the beetroots, carrot, celery, potato, onion and garlic, then sauté for a couple of minutes until the veg are well combined and coated with the fat. Add the stock (broth) and season well with salt and black pepper.
> 
> Bring the soup almost to the boil, then cover and simmer for about 15 minutes. Add the cabbage and tomatoes. Cover the pan and leave the soup to simmer for another 20 minutes. Taste for seasoning and add more salt and pepper if necessary.
> 
> ( _n.b. I cut the steak into thin strips while partially frozen, then brown quickly in a little fat so that they’re still rare and tender inside – it seems easier._ )  
> Heat a griddle pan until it is smoking and cook the steak for just a couple of minutes on each side. Remove the steak and leave it to rest for 5 minutes, then slice it as thinly as you can and add any meat juices to the soup.
> 
> To serve, divide the strips of steak between the soup bowls and ladle the soup on top. Add dollops of sour cream or crème fraiche, if using, and a sprinkling of dill.


	27. Chapter 27

They toweled off and returned to the camping area, Yuuri throwing some more logs on the dying embers of the fire as they went. Then they reentered the warm cocoon of Victor’s bedroll and lay propped up on their elbows, facing each other. The lantern Victor had lit still threw an orange glow beside them. He was looking at Yuuri softly, waiting for him to speak when he was ready.

Yuuri sighed, trying to compose his thoughts and words. “I was about seven, I guess – I’m not sure, exactly. I was traveling with my Japanese parents in a stagecoach. It was stopped and robbed near the Rafter T. Before any help got there, just about everyone on the stagecoach had been shot dead – the driver, the shotgun rider, most of the passengers, who panicked and tried to escape. My father was one of them; he was shot almost as soon as he was out of the door. My mom was shot inside the carriage – I don’t remember the details of how or why, but I remember her body falling on top of me, and maybe that hid me for long enough to – to escape anyone’s notice.” His voice was flat and relatively emotionless. It was a long time ago, and he kept thinking the events were well behind him. He didn’t dwell on them in his waking life; didn’t feel overwhelmed by talking about them. But somehow the evil deeds of that day had scarred him enough to trouble his dreams occasionally – and even his conscious days, as had happened last year.

Victor still said nothing, but looked down and took Yuuri’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together. When he looked back up, his eyes were wide and full of sympathy.

“Hank Taylor heard the shots and rode out with some other men from the Rafter T to see what happened. I don’t remember if anyone else from inside the stagecoach survived, but they found me when they…moved my mother, and took me back to the ranch. I remember being asked a lot of questions. My English was good and I understood what they were asking, but I felt pretty shocked at the time and didn’t say much.”

“I’m not surprised,” Victor said quietly, caressing his thumb over Yuuri’s hand. It was a simple act, but he felt heartened by it and continued.

“The Taylors let me stay with them while people tried to find out about my parents – where they were from, whether I had any more relatives here, and so on; at least, that’s what I was told when I was older. I was able to tell them we lived on a farm in California, and I thought we were moving. My parents had been arguing – things weren’t going well there for some reason, and I think now that they must’ve been selling up and heading somewhere east. I remember a lot of upheaval at our old house – furniture being removed, wagons being filled with things. I don’t know where it all went after my parents died.”

“No brothers or sisters?”

“No, just me. So I ended up staying with the Taylors. I found out later on that they took me in when no one else wanted to – I guess you’ve figured out that Japanese people aren’t too popular here. Apparently it was Eva’s idea at first; she’s a Quaker, and she wanted to do a good deed, plus she didn’t have any children of her own. Hank made me his heir eventually, and got me my citizenship so that I can run the ranch one day – not just take it over, but legally own it. I know we have our problems…” It was becoming painful now to get the words out. “…but they did that for me at least, and I’ll always be grateful for it.” He paused. “They tried to give me a less Japanese-sounding name – Andrew – but I refused to answer to anything other than Yuuri, and eventually they gave up.” He chuckled, as did Victor.

“I love your name,” Victor said. After pausing to think for a moment, he asked, “Do you remember much about your Japanese parents?”

Yuuri blinked. No one had ever asked him that before. The few people who were aware of his history, including the Taylors, had always shied away from discussing it with him, as if bringing it up would awaken ghosts that were better left undisturbed. “Um…not a lot. It was a long time ago, and I was young.” His thoughts drifted back. “Their last name was Katsuki – that’s K-A-T-S-U-K-I; you don’t really pronounce the ‘U’. My mother had kind eyes and a soft voice. She called me ‘Yuuri-kun.’ She cooked a lot of rice, and we ate with chopsticks.” He huffed a laugh. “I don’t remember so much about my father. I know he was a farmer, and he worked hard. Sometimes I helped him feed the animals – I remember we had pigs and chickens and cows. My favourite thing, though, was looking after the horses, and learning how to ride.” He smiled. “I guess that never changed.”

“Did you speak Japanese with them?”

“Yeah. Though if I wasn’t born in this country – which I don’t know, then I’ve lived here most of my life, so I’ve always considered English to be my first language. The Japanese comes back in bits and pieces sometimes…um, like now,” he finished on a hushed note.

“So…the dreams are about what happened – like you’re reliving it?” Victor asked, looking at Yuuri closely, perhaps wondering if he really was OK to carry on talking about it.

Yuuri nodded. “I don’t get them as often as I used to. Nowadays it’s usually because something’s happened to trigger them.”

“Like seeing a stagecoach go by on the road?”

Yuuri nodded again. He swallowed and looked down.

Victor reached a hand out to stroke his cheek. “Yuuri,” he whispered.

Yuuri leaned into his touch, feeling warmth spread through him. “So last year,” he forced himself to say, though he knew he couldn’t hide all the awful feelings that resurfaced as he thought about it, “when that stagecoach was being robbed, and I was there, I…well, I don’t know what you heard about what happened, but I, um…”

Victor moved his hand from Yuuri’s cheek and ran it down his arm to rest on top of his hand. “Yuuri, you don’t have to tell me anything more.”

“I want to, Victor.” Yuuri paused, then said, “I think maybe it was because it was so similar to what happened to me – the robbery, even a kid inside the stagecoach trying to look out of the window. I…” He heaved a shaky sigh. “I just lost it. And it was completely out of my control. I screamed like I was screaming here, and endangered the lives of the men who were with me from the ranch.” He choked back a sob, and tears pricked at his eyes. “I was so ashamed,” he said so quietly that he wasn’t sure if Victor could hear him. “You have no idea how terrible it was…I felt like I’d lost everybody’s trust. And I was the boss’s son; I was supposed to be inheriting the ranch one day. But I was nothing but a coward; I was weak – ”

“Yuuri,” Victor said softly, stroking his hand again, “I’ve told you before, you’re not weak, and no one thinks you are. You’re one of the most courageous people I’ve ever met. You’ve earned the respect of the men on both ranches.”

“Until I have an episode in the bunkhouse at night. I’ve been so worried about that. I had a room of my own in my parents’ house, so it didn’t matter if I, um… screamed in the night. If it woke anyone up, they understood.” He sighed. “I wish _I_ did.”

“Come on down here,” Victor invited him, lying down and putting an arm out.

Yuuri’s heart fluttered and he did so, snuggling close and draping an arm across Victor’s chest. Victor stroked his hair. It seemed impossible to have any worries at all while he was being held like this. Did he really think Victor would reject him once he’d learned about his past? Yuuri felt ashamed for judging him so harshly. His bare skin was warm and smooth against Yuuri’s cheek, and he turned his head to kiss it.

“So was that the reason why I didn’t see you for weeks afterward? Because you were upset about what happened?”

Taken aback by his perceptiveness, Yuuri blushed. “Yeah. I told you I’d been having a hard time. But it was _really_ hard. I…didn’t want anyone to see me like that. Especially not you.”

“And…” Victor was obviously thinking back to their previous conversation on the topic. “…you said it helped that you were inspired by the trick riding I showed you?”

“Yes,” Yuuri replied, his eyes lighting up, pleased that Victor remembered. “That was when I decided to teach myself how to do some of the things I’d seen you do. It gave me something to look forward to every day, and something to aim for. And I thought that if I got good enough, maybe…maybe I could see you again and not feel so…embarrassed about the stagecoach thing.”

Victor sighed and hugged him closer. “I’m flattered,” he said in a low voice. “I didn’t even know – I just wondered why you weren’t around.” He paused, and kissed his hair. “I missed you, Yuuri. I tried to see you.”

“I know – my father told me he’d sent you away when you came. I had words with him about that, believe me.” He fell silent, running his hand over Victor’s chest. “You’ve been so good about all of this. I spoiled our night.”

“ _Yuuri_.” He loved hearing Victor say his name like that – a drawn-out, sonorous sound that slid warmly through his body. He caressed the underside of Yuuri’s chin with his fingertips. “Don’t ever doubt it – there’s no one I’d rather be with, no one else I’d want to…be doing these things with, _solnyshko_. You’re so beautiful, in so many ways.” He grinned fondly as he continued to look into Yuuri’s eyes. “Ah…there’s that blush.”   

***

“You’re gettin’ some nice muscles – must be practicin’ like I told you to,” Clarissa said to Yuuri after their next lesson, squeezing the top of his arm. Then she slapped it lightly and turned to stand in her customary place against the sideboard, smoking a cigarette. She was wearing a sleek white robe today trimmed with white fluff, paired with high-heeled white sandals. Her scarlet nails and lips stood out all the more in contrast.

Yuuri had dispensed with the long johns for the summer in favor of his workout clothes – the tan woolen pants he wore for gymnastics and the white cotton short-sleeved shirt. He still preferred to dance barefoot. There was little relief from the hot days, especially in Clarissa’s plush apartment, with a barely perceptible draft issuing from an open window. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and started changing into his cowboy clothes. There was little embarrassment or self-consciousness that he felt in front of Clarissa now; it seemed to be a combination of awareness that she was used to men in various states of undress in front of her anyway, and the fact that he’d been seeing her for these lessons for months and they’d reached an understanding. Namely that Yuuri wasn’t interested in any “services” other than the dance lessons, but he tolerated a certain degree of playful affection, for want of a better term. She seemed to know what he’d put up with and what annoyed him.

He felt the shadow of a twinge as he bent over to put his boots on. He’d returned with Victor from their camping trip yesterday, and while Victor had been careful not to do anything that would hurt him, what Yuuri – stupidly – hadn’t expected was how uncomfortable he would feel getting back in the saddle the morning after. It wasn’t so bad at first, but things were getting on the sore side by the time they’d gotten back to the Circle C. Victor must have noticed the expression on his face at some point, because he’d remarked in his usual Charlie manner about such issues that when deciding what kind of sex you were up for, it was worth considering how much riding you’d have to be doing straight afterward. He apologized for not mentioning it before, insisted it was his fault, and suggested that Yuuri rest up when they got back. It hadn’t been that bad, however, and he hadn’t thought about it again until now. Though he did think plenty about their night together – reliving their lovemaking until he started getting hard and wondering when and where they could do it again; and recalling their conversation after his panic attack with warmth and gratitude that Victor had been so understanding and affectionate. Once again he thought how lucky he was that – 

“You look more lost than a dogie wanderin’ around the range on its lonesome,” Clarissa said as she sipped a drink, the cigarette having been discarded. “Ain’t that what cowboys call lost calves?”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, pulling his second boot on. “Just thinking.”

“How’s things goin’ with you and Victor these days?” She was swilling the ice around in her glass, effecting a nonchalant attitude but eyeing him keenly.

He stood up, now fully dressed in his everyday clothes minus his hat, and looked back at her for a moment. “We’re good. Why?”

“Well, you remember how I said you’d make a lovely couple. I was wonderin’ if that was official yet – and if not, why not.”

Yuuri’s face turned pink. “I…what makes you think we – ”

She gave a little laugh and shook her head. “You guys weren’t foolin’ me the night you brought him along. I saw how you were lookin’ at each other. Figured it was just a matter of time.” She shrugged and smiled. “Can’t say I blame you, either,” she sighed, sipping more of her drink. “Why is it always the sweet, good-lookin’ ones? My luck’s terrible these days.”

“What?” Yuuri said, not entirely understanding, but beginning to panic inside. “You can’t just assume – ”

“Yuuri,” Clarissa said, putting her empty glass down and approaching him. Her gaze was level as she stood in front of him, her usual teasing attitude having suddenly vanished. She reached up and quickly ran a finger over his cheek, giving him a reassuring smile that was somehow sad too. “Your secret’s safe with me, hon. You got no worries on that count.” As he began to splutter a reply, she continued, “I’ve been in show business a long time. You think I’ve never seen men with men or women with women before? Honey, the places I’ve been, the people I’ve known – it’s as common as Shakespeare and Chopin. ’Til I ended up in this town, it was just a part of life. It wasn’t talked about much, but it went on and everybody knew it, and it wasn’t a big deal.” She stood and looked at him as the fear and surprise on his face changed to curiosity.  

“There are places where it’s…accepted?” he said quietly, having realized that any further attempts at pretense were clearly pointless.

“You gonna have a drink for once? And I’ll tell you a few things.” The mischievous glint had returned to her eyes.

“OK.”

“Sit down then.” She indicated the maroon-colored sofa with its fat cushions, and Yuuri obliged as she went to the sideboard and poured whiskey into two cut-glass tumblers. She handed one to him, then sat on the other side of the sofa and looked at him as she took a sip. Yuuri tasted his as well; and while it might have been watered down, it was better than the usual rotgut that ranch hands carried in their hip flasks.

“I grew up in Paris,” Clarissa said, staring at her glass as she moved it around in her hand, its facets and the red of her nails flashing in the light from the lamp on the side table next to her. “That’s where I was trained in ballet, as you know. And lemme tell ya, it’s the world capital of…well, I don’t care for the terms people use from the Bible, because none of ’em’s exactly flatterin’. But Paris is famous for it. It’s even why some people go there to live.” She sipped her drink. “It wasn’t that different in the theatre in New York either. Actors, dancers, directors – you name it. Now wherever you go, you’ll find people who object and wanna cause trouble. But that was pretty rare. For most of us it was just part of the usual life goin’ on around us.” She paused and pursed her lips, and the sadness had returned to her eyes – something deep and enduring that Yuuri couldn’t recall ever having seen in them up to now. “I miss it all. It ain’t the same here.”

With a stab of guilt, Yuuri thought about all the times he’d come here for lessons and never once asked Clarissa anything personal; anything about her past life. The evidence indicated that it had been colorful – her knowledge of ballet, and the odd mixture of Paris and New York in her accent. And she’d never pushed it on him, simply teaching him as he’d asked her to do. He suspected she had a story to tell – so why had it taken him so long to be interested in it? With a mental start, Yuuri realized as he shared his drink with her that he was viewing her in a new light – not merely as his paid instructor, but as a human being with a life of her own that had no doubt been full of trials and tribulations; ones that had built up and combined to make her who she was now.

“So why did you leave Paris?” he asked her, swilling the whiskey around in his glass.

Her laugh was hard-edged. “For love, romantic fool that I was. I met Benjamin and he swept me off my naïve young feet. He was an American theatre producer, and he took me to New York, where I performed on stage. Ballet’s new to this country, and people saw it as a curiosity, though I guess a few of ’em had enough culture, or had travelled enough, to have some appreciation of what they saw. Even if I ended up dancin’ between the sword-swallowin’ and fortune-tellin’ acts.” She snorted and gulped the rest of her whiskey. “I need some more of this stuff. Hang on a minute.” She got up and went to grab the bottle, brought it back and poured herself another glass, then topped up Yuuri’s. “Now, where was I?”

“New York,” Yuuri said, sipping his drink. “That’s a long way from here.”

“Well believe me, I didn’t intend for things to pan out like that. That rattlesnake left me out here without a red cent to my name while we were supposed to be travelin’ together to San Francisco. I never heard from him again. _And_ I had two little boys to bring up on my lonesome.” She sniffed. “The bastard.” And poured herself more whiskey, then gave Yuuri the remainder from the bottle. “Sad stories. We all got ’em, I guess.”

Yuuri was appalled when he thought about the hardships she must have faced. He wanted to ask her why her husband – if indeed he had been – had abandoned her like that, but didn’t want to pry too far into what was still an understandably upsetting subject for her. “How did you make a living?” he asked, sipping more of his whiskey. His head was beginning to buzz.

“I performed at different theatres around here, mostly in Abilene – that’s a town in the foothills that mainly caters to miners comin’ and goin’ from the mountains; I guess you probably heard of it. Put together some pretty entertainin’ acts, if I do say so myself, though I had to cut down on the ballet ’cause most people out here ain’t never seen it and don’t know what to make of it, as a rule. I’m getting’ old, though, and can’t dance like I used to. But I got a good deal here with Sam, for now at least.” She finished her drink and plonked her glass on the side table, then stared at it silently.

Yuuri thought her idea of a “good deal” was disputable, and his heart reached out to this determined woman who had done what she’d had to do to make ends meet and keep going, despite the continuing precariousness of her circumstances. He knew the fees he was paying for his lessons would help a little, but not very much, and wished he could do more. “Where are your sons now, if you don’t mind my asking?” he said, finishing his own drink.

“They’re grown up. Fine specimens of manhood, both of ’em, bless ’em. One’s in Indianapolis and one’s in Saskatchewan. So obviously I don’t get to see ’em that often, but they’re doin’ fine.” She gave him a small smile. “I appreciate your interest, though I ain’t here to depress ya by tellin’ ya my life story. Sounds like you’re writin’ a good one of your own.” She reached out and patted Yuuri’s hand. Her words were slightly slurred.

Yuuri returned her smile and placed his empty glass next to hers. “Thanks,” he said, giving her hand an affectionate stroke. “Um, about what you said earlier – did you ever come across any same-sex couples who ended up making a life together? I mean, who actually succeeded at it?” This possibility, and the likely difficulties involved, had entered his mind some time ago, but it was only recently that he’d made himself hold the thought and begin to seriously consider it, along with all of its implications – some of which were honestly frightening.

Clarissa thought for a moment. “I know of a few. But it’s never easy, because there’s noplace I know of where you can be open about it in public like you can if you’re married, even in France. And…” Her eyes met his, and they were earnest, despite being bloodshot from the whiskey. “…you and Victor, bein’ cowboys out here, have chosen a hard road, if I can speak plain.” She reached out to squeeze his shoulder. “But if it’s what you really want, you can make it work. I wish you two all the happiness in the world.”

A tear beaded in the corner of Yuuri’s eye. “Thank you,” he whispered.

As Yuuri rode Biscuit back to the Circle C through the darkness a little later, the buzzing in his head slowly dying away, he found himself wondering what Paris was like. He knew very little about it apart from pieces of information he’d gathered from reading his mother’s magazines. He and Victor could live there in peace. They’d wear suits, and go to restaurants and shows. Stroll through lush green parks hand in hand. Victor would translate and help Yuuri learn the language. And the rains, when they came, would be sweet and gentle on their skin.

He knew it was a fantasy, but the images danced in his mind all the way back to the ranch like candles lit in prayer.


	28. Chapter 28

Yuuri didn’t want to admit it to anybody, least of all Victor, but quitting smoking wasn’t as easy as he thought it would be.

After several days had gone by, he’d noticed that little things were bothering him more than usual. Snoring in the bunkhouse waking him up and keeping him awake. He’d learned to tolerate it, yet somehow now he ended up feeling like he wanted to strangle the offending parties. He found it hard to concentrate while he was working out or practicing trick riding, as if his brain was scattered into tiny pieces that couldn’t function as a whole. It was embarrassing to make basic mistakes in front of Victor when he was doing simple things that he thought he had mastered; and when Victor pointed out what he’d been doing wrong – which Yuuri knew full well was his job, and what he was supposed to be doing to help him improve – he sometimes had to stifle a prickly reaction that he’d never felt before to that degree. It was difficult to stay patient, too, though he himself was on the receiving end of this particular problem as he directed harsh criticism at himself when he didn’t do as well as he thought he should at a particular task. What fed his resolve to work through it all and hopefully come out on the other side was the fact that Victor was obviously keen for him to succeed, and Yuuri had given him his word.

He attempted various strategies as aids in his endeavor. Physically removing himself from a situation in which he knew he was becoming cranky; or, if that was impossible, taking a deep breath and reminding himself that “this too shall pass,” which was at least sometimes reassuring. Working out extra hard. Putting things in his mouth – toothpicks, pieces of hay, chewing gum. He didn’t want to look like a cow chewing its cud, but it did seem to help take the edge off the cravings. A more challenging conundrum that he hadn’t expected was what to do with his hands, which held the physical memory of his routine of rolling cigarettes so well that he often did it without conscious awareness, the act of pulling out his pouch of tobacco and lighting the quirly seemingly simultaneous.

Then one evening after dinner he saw one of the ranch hands sitting outside the bunkhouse while the sun was setting, carving a piece of wood with his paring knife. It was a common enough pastime for cowboys, and Yuuri wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before. So he gathered a few pieces of wood himself and had a go at making some animal shapes. He wasn’t particularly encouraged when he asked Victor if he could guess what they were and he only got one right; but for once Yuuri refrained from any self-criticism, feeling pleased that he’d found something that helped him and was enjoyable too.

Victor was lavish with his praise for Yuuri’s efforts, which also helped a great deal, even though Yuuri tried to pretend that what he was doing wasn’t difficult at all. He knew it was a half-hearted act, and he knew that Victor knew too. In fact, Victor seemed to be making a special effort to find opportunities to kiss Yuuri after a meal, which had been the time that he would usually light up. He would pull Yuuri over to him, or put a hand on his cheek, often in the bunkhouse or stable when no one else was around, and seem to savor the private moment when their lips met, telling Yuuri how wonderful he tasted and smelled. Yuuri would feel like he was floating on air afterward, the temptation to indulge in his erstwhile habit completely obliterated, at least for the time being.

One morning in August, when the cravings were at last dying down, Yuuri had awakened early and decided to make the effort to haul himself out of his bunk so that he would get to the cook shack in time to get a decent breakfast for once. Victor had apparently arisen earlier still, as was his habit. Yuuri dressed quickly and decided to head out to the stable; he could get his gear ready for the day and saddle up Biscuit before the food was served. When he got there, he found Victor grooming Luchik and murmuring to the horse in his customary mix of English and Russian.

“Yuuri!” he said in delighted surprise, looking over at him. “You’re up bright and early today.”

Yuuri walked over to the door of the stall and rested his arms on it. “Yeah. I figure a cowboy needs a good breakfast sometimes.” He smirked playfully. “How about a kiss to reward me for my effort?”

Victor smirked back. Locking Yuuri’s gaze with his own, he put down the brush he was holding and moved to stand in front of him on the other side of the door to the stall. Then he placed a hand on either side of Yuuri’s neck, leaned forward, and gave him a soft, lingering kiss that ended with a flick of tongue across Yuuri’s top lip. Yuuri sighed, keeping his eyes closed as Victor whispered, “Good morning, _zvezda moya_.”

Yuuri watched quietly for a moment with a fond smile on his face as Victor returned to grooming Luchik. Then he went to Biscuit’s stall and decided to take a notebook and pencil out of one of his saddlebags to jot down a list of items he needed to buy or get repaired in town during his next trip, before he forgot. As he went about the other brief tasks that he’d planned, he held the end of the pencil between his teeth, chewing or sucking on it occasionally without really noticing.

Victor, who had been stealing the odd glance at him, now joined him. “Ready to get some breakfast?” he asked.

“Yeah, in a minute,” Yuuri said around the pencil as he cinched up a strap on his saddle. He opened the stall door.

“You’ve still got your pencil in your mouth,” Victor observed with a wry grin.

“Oh.” Yuuri removed it distractedly and tucked it back into the pocket of his saddlebag, then closed the door behind him. “I guess it helps to have something in my mouth. You know, while I’m trying to quit.” He quickly corrected himself. “Not trying – I _did_ quit.”

Victor gave him a heated look. “I can think of other things you could put in your mouth. If you feel it would help, of course.”

Yuuri felt the familiar beginnings of a blush staining his cheeks. He knew Victor loved to tease this reaction out of him, and he usually felt helpless to prevent it. But he had also grown more confident over the past few months, reveling in his newfound sexuality and learning from example to trust that Victor would accept and appreciate this emerging and vulnerable side of him. He felt aroused enough now for it to largely overrule his self-consciousness and doubt, assert itself and decree that he could, and would, retaliate for once. Two could play at this game…and have some fun into the bargain.

He stood his ground and coolly returned Victor’s gaze. Victor was standing with the wall of the stable a couple of feet behind him; saddles, harness and other paraphernalia were hanging on nails from roof to floor. Morning sunlight streamed between cracks in the gray wooden slats, and dust motes were dancing in the beams; but the building was mostly dim and quiet, the occasional shuffle or snort of a horse the only noises to be heard. It was customary for the other ranch hands to go to breakfast before they began their day’s work, and it was early yet.

 _Can I really do this?_ Yuuri wondered. They were both well removed from the door to the building and would have time to dart into Biscuit’s stall if anyone came in, he judged. The thought of what he wanted to do tantalized him. He felt emboldened as he began to channel the seductive persona he’d discovered and developed in his dancing. Maybe if he made it quick…

With hooded eyes, he reached out and grabbed the red and white bandanna looped around Victor’s neck with his right hand and placed his left on Victor’s chest, giving him an ungentle shove against the wall. A harness nearby clinked and swayed as Victor, startled, bumped into it. Yuuri was going to put everything he had into this and find out just how good he was capable of making it, as he’d recently vowed to do when he got the chance.

“I’ll take that as an invitation,” he said in response to Victor’s words, his voice a low purr. Then he crushed himself against him, angled his head up and plundered Victor’s mouth, still clutching at the bandanna around his neck with his right hand, while with his left he reached up to the back of his head and buried his fingers in the short, fine strands of hair there. Victor gasped into the rough kiss, wrapping his arms tentatively around Yuuri, then clinging more firmly to his shoulder blades. Soon he was making soft little sounds that turned into moans as Yuuri angled his hips and grinded against him, while continuing to hold his mouth captive. Victor murmured his name against his lips, and Yuuri pulled away, giving him a look he hoped was every bit as smoldering as the one Victor had initially given him, before suddenly sinking down to his knees.

There was another gasp as Yuuri grasped the waist of Victor’s pants and gave them a yank downward along with his drawers until the material was bunched at the tops of his thighs. Yuuri’s cock twitched as he looked up and saw Victor’s erection jutting directly in front of him, as well as the way the toned muscles in his abdomen were heaving as his breaths quickened. Trying to remember what Victor had done to him so far that he’d particularly enjoyed, Yuuri stroked him with a firm fist several times, smeared the precome at the tip around and under, then sank his mouth down over the shaft with a drawn-out moan, flicking a sultry glance upward. Victor’s head knocked against the wall of the stable as he tilted it back, his mouth falling open to issue a broken groan, his hands clutching at the gear hanging on the wall behind him.

Yuuri alternated between fast and slow bobs of his head, and moving his fist up and down Victor’s length, occasionally adding a gentle twist around the head, until he could hear Victor panting. “God, Yuuri,” he gasped. He slipped his fingers into Yuuri’s hair, a series of quiet whines slipping out that grew in intensity as Yuuri stepped up his pace, making sure he pressed and laved his tongue over the bottom of Victor’s cock as he moved his head back and forth. He kept his free hand anchored to Victor’s hip.

Yuuri’s senses were taking in every facet of the encounter. The noises Victor was making were like honey to a bee. Yuuri was achingly hard himself, and imagined pulling Victor down on top of him, both of them quickly satisfying each other’s need there on the floor – but exercising his power to give him such pleasure was better still. The harnesses on the wall continued to jingle as Victor shifted against them. The usual heady smells of the stable hung in the air: leather, linseed oil, horses, hay, dirt; mixed with Victor’s own quintessential scent, concentrated where Yuuri was working.

“I’m close,” Victor breathed. If it was meant to be a warning, Yuuri ignored it. He reached around with both hands to squeeze Victor’s exquisitely chiselled ass and pull him nearer still. Victor seemed to be fighting the urge to thrust his hips into Yuuri’s movements, and Yuuri took him in as deeply as he could without gagging, wondering if he could find the courage on future occasions to actually ask him to go ahead and thrust, or what it would feel like if Victor encouraged him do the same. The thought sent a wave of heat through his core, and he hummed against Victor’s skin. The vibrations elicited another groan; and when Yuuri gently grasped Victor’s balls with one hand and began to knead them, the response was a throatily muttered string of words in Russian.

Soon Victor’s thighs tensed and began to shake. He let out a cry that was quickly choked off, and the fingers in Yuuri’s hair clenched, but not painfully; then Yuuri tasted a stream of salty liquid and instinctively swallowed it down, suffused with a feeling of satisfaction that his lover had come undone like this because of him. He continued to bob and suck a little longer as Victor rode through the tremors of his orgasm, before a hand reached down and gently lifted Yuuri’s head away.

Yuuri tucked Victor back in and pulled his pants back up, then stood and looked at his handiwork. Victor’s hair was sticking out in different directions, his vest had slipped halfway down one shoulder, and his shirt collar was askew. He was still panting, his cheeks flushed a rosy hue, his eyes wide with surprise and admiration as they met Yuuri’s. He opened his mouth but couldn’t seem to find any words.

“You were right,” Yuuri said with a smirk, his voice husky. “It _did_ help.” He leaned forward, cupped Victor’s cheek in his palm, and gave him a tender kiss.

Victor mirrored his actions. “Thank you,” he said in a whisper.

Yuuri smiled and headed toward the door, then turned and looked back. “Breakfast? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

Victor gave him a drunken grin and nodded, raking his hair back and following Yuuri outside.    

***

 That afternoon, Victor watched Yuuri tumble off Biscuit for the fifth time in twenty minutes.

His instinct in such situations was to first rush forward and make sure Yuuri was unhurt, and secondly to talk to him about what he’d done wrong. But he’d realized over time that Yuuri didn’t want what he called coddling, or unasked-for criticism – he knew that Victor was watching, and Victor knew that Yuuri would come to him when he needed to. What encouraged Yuuri to blossom, Victor had discovered, was his presence and support, which he was quietly giving now by standing here in his customary place by the entrance to the stable.

That didn’t make it any easier to watch Yuuri fall like this. He was bruised in many places, and Victor had kissed them all. In a way he felt responsible, but Yuuri had said he wanted him to drive him hard in practice. He continued to drive himself hard too. Victor had been spending time alone riding bareback on Luchik, running over the new tricks and routines he was planning for his next rodeo, while Yuuri was mainly coming to grips with using his trick saddle, trying to get used to maneuvering his body and finding his balance. Today he was practicing tricks that required him to stand on the saddle without holding on to the reins. It wasn’t enough for him to simply perform – he wanted to look graceful, like he was dancing on top of his horse. When it worked for him, the beauty of it went straight to Victor’s heart. When it didn’t, as had been the case most of this afternoon, Victor found it difficult to stand and watch like this without actively intervening. There must be _something_ he could do. Wasn’t that a coach’s job?

Yuuri stood up, winced, dusted himself off – like Victor, he was dressed in his workout clothes – and vaulted back onto the saddle without a glance Victor’s way. There was the silent answer to Victor’s silent question, then: _I know what I’m doing. Let me try to sort this out on my own._

Even so, he briefly considered encouraging Yuuri to stop for the day and either concentrate on his ranch chores, or do some gymnastics or ballet. But he also knew that Yuuri hated to quit when he was struggling, as he considered it giving up, though Victor hoped one day he’d realize that sometimes even the most skilled people had off days and had to give things a rest. Another problem was that when both of them practiced other things in the stable together, they had trouble keeping their hands off each other. Mind you, that wasn’t altogether an undesirable thing, as distracting as it was. The vision of Yuuri on a hot day, sweat glistening on the bare skin of his chest as his muscles flexed and he flashed his dark eyes Victor’s way, was so deliciously enticing that he found it hard to resist.

As he watched Yuuri pull himself up to a standing position once again on Biscuit and pause there, making slight shifts as the horse moved and learning where his center of balance was and how it changed moment to moment – something they’d done some intensive work on not long ago, as it would build a better foundation for success – Victor assumed his customary contemplative look as he took note of what he was seeing. At the same time, his thoughts drifted further along very pleasurable lines. Their recent camping trip was something he’d not soon forget. As if the relaxed time they’d had together privately, and the good food and drink and conversation they’d shared, hadn’t been enough, the first time he had taken Yuuri had been one of the most memorable experiences of his life. They hadn’t had the chance to do it since, though he was aware that those circumstances wouldn’t be repeated in quite that way again. He’d been actively looking for the time and the good weather to grab the bedroll and Yuuri’s hand and drag them both outside somewhere one night when they weren’t too tired from the day’s work – and Yuuri wouldn’t have to ride too much the next day. Victor was still mentally kicking himself for not warning him about that particular consequence beforehand.

Yuuri was striking a pose with his arms out to either side of him now, arching back as if he were riding on the wind. _That’s it, baby – you are gorgeous._ Victor twitched his lips in a grin as he watched. It occurred to him that like his role now as a coach, he had also initially assumed – or been led to assume – the lead in their physical relationship, probably because Yuuri knew he was the one with more experience. And as now, he’d been more than happy to guide and instruct; though as Yuuri learned and put his knowledge into practice, he was becoming more confident – both here in the corral, and in more intimate ways. Victor was eagerly awaiting the time when Yuuri felt ready to take him in turn; in fact it was the fantasy that thrilled him the most. But like their first kiss, that decision would have to be Yuuri’s.

Yuuri tried some jumps now on Biscuit’s saddle, and he wobbled a few times but didn’t fall. Victor paused to fetch and don his duster coat. The weather was too hot for it, but the direction of his thoughts had made it necessary in case any other ranch hands passed by. The men would come and go occasionally, with hardly a glance toward the two of them, having been used to Victor practicing trick riding before, and now Yuuri too – though that didn’t mean they wouldn’t notice if either of them put himself in a compromising situation.

Victor put a hand in his pocket and discovered one of the little wooden animals Yuuri had whittled and given to him. He’d only just taken up the new hobby as part of his endearingly earnest attempt to stop smoking; and while he would no doubt improve in time, his creations had a certain charm. This one was a hare, which reminded Victor of their meals together in the shepherd’s hut.

He smiled to himself again, enjoying the heat that spread through his body as he watched Yuuri and daydreamed. The gentle and intimate encounters they’d had were wonderful enough in themselves; but when the simmering caldron that he’d learned Yuuri harbored inside of him boiled over, as had increasingly been the case as he became more comfortable with his sexuality… _oh bozhe_. And that morning in the stable – how Yuuri had been so good at that, when he’d never done it before…well, it had certainly been an unexpected treat. And he’d seemed to be getting off on it too, if the subtle but unmistakeable noises he’d been making while he was doing those deliciously lewd things to him were any indication. Victor felt like the luckiest man in the world. Yuuri hadn’t asked for anything in return, and Victor promised himself he would do something about that at the first opportunity. He’d been a little worried that someone might walk in on them, but the small part of his brain that had been thinking rationally at the time had assumed they could duck into one of the stalls if need be. It had still been a risk, and one he told himself he’d better be responsible enough in the future to avoid – but in all honesty, he had to admit it had added a certain frisson, or urgency, to the situation.

Now Yuuri was trying to stand on one foot while pointing the other back in the beginning of an arabesque. It seemed very ambitious, considering the more basic moves that he had been struggling with today, but Victor was not about to stop him if he thought he could do it. The intense look of concentration on his face was something Victor respected and admired. Trick riding had always come fairly easily to him, and he felt humbled to see someone else hungering for the same achievements and having to discipline themselves, and struggle, and strive that much harder. It sometimes made him wonder what he himself might achieve if he were pushed to work to the same degree. The warmth that had originated with his erotic thoughts mellowed itself now into something sweet, soft and fond that filled his heart.     

Then a thought struck him that made the duster coat unnecessary. The deeper Victor felt himself falling with Yuuri, the more power he was giving Yuuri to hurt him, he knew. The night they were camping, it hadn’t been Yuuri’s attack that had bothered him – Victor sympathized and was more than willing to support him through any problems like that, and god knew everyone had their own. No, it had been that Yuuri’s relationship with his adoptive parents was more complicated than had first appeared. He was grateful for what they’d done for him, and stood to inherit the ranch and become its boss. While Victor was pleased that Yuuri could look forward to such a prosperous future, would there be any room for himself in it? How would it, how _could_ it work, even if it was what Yuuri wanted? Victor reminded himself that it was too early in their relationship to think about such things, but they occasionally snuck up on him nonetheless. Yuuri was different from the other men he’d known in the past. Special. He was –

 _Ah._ Yuuri had carried on into the arabesque, but had lost his balance; and as he’d been standing on one leg, trying to dip down, he had a rather rough landing this time, head first. He was taking his time in getting up, and Victor walked over to him, immediately looking to assess any injuries. “Yuuri,” he said, “are you all right?” Biscuit had trotted a short distance away and stood placidly with a snort and a whinny.

“I think my elbow bent back when I landed,” he said, rubbing it as he sat on the ground. The look of pain on his face was obvious.

“Yuuri, I know you don’t like hearing this, but I’m worried you might hurt yourself if you carry on.”

“So, what – are you going to order me to give up again?” Yuuri snapped back, shooting him a fierce look. But his face fell immediately afterward. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’m just so frustrated. And I’m anxious about the rodeo.”

Victor held a hand out, and Yuuri took it and stood, brushing himself off once more, his shirt more brown than white. “That’s still weeks away. You’ve got plenty of time. And I can see how much you’re improving.” He made his voice sound as soothing as he could.

“But look at how much I’m falling!” Yuuri said, a note of panic entering his voice. “What if that happens at the rodeo? And like I said, what I’m doing reflects on you too. It’ll put both of us in a bad light if I – ”

Victor gripped the top of his arm gently. How could someone who was so talented also be so anxious; so full of self-doubt? It was a side of Yuuri he found difficult to understand, but he knew he had to support him somehow. “Yuuri,” he said quietly, looking into his eyes. Then he paused. _What can I do – what does he need from me right now?_ “Why don’t you let me demonstrate a few things, and you can watch and think about any changes you might like to make to what you’re doing. Then maybe we can work on the positions that are giving you problems, while Biscuit is standing still. It’s important to get them right before – ”

“Before I try to do them while she’s moving – yes, I know.” Yuuri sighed. “OK. And, um…thanks.”

Victor had intended to wrap this session up soon – or at least his own part in it – and take Luchik out for a while, but it seemed important that Yuuri finish on a successful note so that he wouldn’t dwell on his perceived failures. They spent the next hour doing what Victor had suggested, Yuuri absorbing every detail of what Victor demonstrated for him and then making an earnest effort to copy it in what he did himself. As always, he was a fast and perceptive learner, and it wasn’t long before he had Biscuit moving again – at a somewhat slower speed – and was balancing on her saddle more solidly than before.

“Yuuri, that’s fantastic,” Victor called out.

“Is this a private party, or can anybody join?” came a familiar voice, and Victor turned to see Chris leaning on the fence of the corral, watching, with Walt at his side. Yuuri brought Biscuit to a standstill and followed their conversation.

“Hi, Chris. Walt. We’re just practicing,” Victor said, walking toward them.

“Ya been practicin’ all afternoon. We been past here several times today. Just wonderin’ if there was a particular reason why y’all are workin’ so hard.”

Victor smiled. “Yuuri’s got a rodeo to get ready for. In fact, he’s doing so well that if he doesn’t win first place, I’ll eat my hat, as they say.”

“Oh yeah?” Chris eyed Yuuri on Biscuit. “Learnin’ all your fancy ways with them horses, is he?”

“He’s a natural. You ought to try sometime too – you might enjoy it.”

Walt laughed. “Well _I_ ain’t never doin’ it. I’d just break my neck. Say – why don’t he give us one of them performances like you do yourself sometimes? I’d love to see what he’s been practicin’.”

Victor looked over at Yuuri. If his eyes could speak, they were saying, _Not on your life._ Which presented something of a conundrum. His instinct told him that this could be an excellent opportunity for Yuuri to regain some confidence. He would eventually have to perform in front of an audience anyway, and he was friendly with Chris and Walt, so who better to start with? Maybe he’d also be less self-conscious with them than he would be with other ranch hands. And this could also end up being the positive note to end his practice with today. It was of course possible that Yuuri’s anxiety would get the better of him, and he’d fall in front of an audience this time. But he’d been doing well in the last hour, and there was always a risk factor inherent in performances that could not be avoided; you simply had to get used to it. Victor decided to have faith that Yuuri would rise to the challenge, though he chose his next words carefully, so that Yuuri still had a way out of the situation if he wanted to take it.

“I’m sure he’d be willing to show you,” Victor said to the two would-be spectators. “What do you think, Yuuri?” he called over.

“I…um.” He stared at Victor in clear displeasure.

“C’mon, Yuuri, I’d love to see what ya kin do,” Chris said. “We ain’t gonna bite.”

“Yeah, c’mon, don’t be shy,” Walt chimed in, pulling off his derby hat and waving it in encouragement while he flashed a smile.

Yuuri just sat on Biscuit, looking at them. The he muttered, “Oh hell,” and reined Biscuit around to the side of the corral, where he dismounted. He bowed to his audience of two; Chris clapped and Walt whistled as Victor unobtrusively backed into the doorway that led into the stable, watching keenly with his arms folded across his chest, his duster coat slung over the corral fence next to him.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the rodeo,” Yuuri said, and Victor was surprised to see a smile tweaking the corner of his mouth. It was as if he’d suddenly slipped into a different persona. His posture was confident now, his manner flirtatious even, as he played to his audience. Where had this come from? It occurred to Victor that he’d only ever seen Yuuri perform privately for himself. Maybe this was natural for him when he was on stage, so to speak. With a raised eyebrow, he waited in anticipation.

Yuuri backed up theatrically several yards behind the stationary Biscuit, then took a running start, planted his hands evenly on Biscuit’s rump, and vaulted high and clean into the saddle, immediately urging her into a trot. Whistles came again from Chris and Walt. Yuuri untied his blue bandanna, held it up in the air briefly to display it, then tossed it to the ground. Fluidly, and with a flourish, he dropped to the side of his horse that faced the inside of the corral and circled around, snatching the bandanna up off the ground as he passed by. Then he hoisted himself back onto the saddle and retied his bandanna around his neck. Chris and Walt clapped.

Yuuri sped Biscuit into a gallop and climbed onto the side of his saddle again, making all of his actions and gestures larger than life for effect, as if he were dancing rather than riding on his horse. Victor felt his pulse speed up as he watched Yuuri make the initial moves that would enable him to pull himself underneath Biscuit and up the other side – something he’s struggled to do at a slower gait than this. But he did it cleanly, and clung to the opposite side of Biscuit when he was done, smiling and holding a graceful arm out to his audience as they clapped.

Yuuri didn’t pause when he was sitting on the saddle again, but climbed up to stand on the back of it, as he’d been practicing all afternoon. He’d slowed Biscuit to a canter, though it was still a fast gait for what Victor knew he was going to attempt. He was taking small gambles and getting away with them so far – not something Victor had expected of him, especially after the frustration and anxiety he’d confessed to feeling. _My Yuuri is full of surprises today,_ he thought as he smiled to himself. He’d been underestimating his protégé.

As he struck a series of poses on the back of the saddle, Yuuri made the slight shifts in his weight that were necessary to continue to move fluidly with his mount so that his body wobbled as little as possible. He extended his arms and legs and even stood on one foot, while flashing a playful grin at his audience, but to Victor’s relief he didn’t try the full arabesque. The pirouettes and little jumps he made were successful, if cautious. Finally he vaulted high into the air, did a backflip, and landed – if not on both feet simultaneously, than at least solidly – behind Biscuit, who slowed to a standstill. He made another deep bow to the two spectators, who cheered and clapped.

“Hot damn!” Walt exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Ya done taught him well, Victor,” Chris called. “Hey, Yuuri, that was hotter than a Texas tamale. Ya keep learning’ from this guy, ya hear? Shit, you two oughta be in the circus or somethin’.”

“Thanks,” Yuuri said, waving back as the two of them left, his more demure habitual manner returning. This man was like an oyster, Victor decided, with untold riches hidden away from the casual observer. He beamed at Yuuri as he strode over to him. To his trained eye it hadn’t been a flawless performance – there was the odd pause or slip, jumps that could be higher, poses that could be perfected further still – but that was beside the point; and people like Walt and Chris wouldn’t notice anyway. It had also been a significant improvement over what Yuuri had been doing most of the afternoon.

Victor was aware that he was grinning like a fool, his pride in Yuuri’s accomplishment filling him until it felt like it was spilling over. But before he could say anything, Yuuri put his hands on his hips and eyed him. “I don’t know whether to kiss you or cuss you out sometimes when you do stuff like that,” he said. Then he gave him a broad smile.

With a wink, Victor replied, “Well I’d prefer the kissing, if you’re asking.” They both laughed and embraced. Yuuri was a delightful mixture of soft warmth – his hair, his cheek – and hard muscle.  “Now’s a good time,” he added, leading him into the stable.


	29. Chapter 29

Yuuri wondered how he’d been roped into this one. He’d lost several dollars in change to Curly, a cowboy whose luck seemed to be in that Saturday night – either that, or he was a dab hand at cheating, because no one had caught him. He, Yuuri, Victor, Walt and another ranch hand called Charlie had been sitting around one of the box-tables in the bunkhouse playing poker for the past hour. The oil lantern that had been placed in the center of the table sent a gentle stream of black smoke into the air that stank of kerosene, and the glass chimney was greasy with it.

“I’ll see your quarter and call,” Charlie said, eyeing Curly. He was a very tall, very thin man with a mop of black hair and green eyes like a cat’s.

“Three kings,” Curly said, eyeing him back with a smirk and laying his hand on the table.

“That beats me,” Walt sighed, putting down his cards. Victor had folded and was sitting back watching the proceedings in silence. Yuuri put his hand down as well, sucking at his bottom lip.

“Fucking hell,” Charlie said heatedly, throwing his cards on the table as Curly chuckled and raked in the pile of change in front of him, his eponymous golden coiffure glinting in the lantern light. “Ain’t no one can be as lucky as you,” he added in a low voice, glowering at him. “I’m callin’ ya out for the lousy stinkin’ cheat ya are.”

Curly stood instantly, returning Charlie’s hostile glare. “You take that back or get what’s comin’ to ya. I won fair an’ square.”

“Just try it.” Charlie took a step toward him, one hand curled into a fist. “I ain’t had a good fight since I dunno when.”

“Now wait just a minute,” Victor said, standing up and joining them. Both men fell silent and looked at him. Yuuri understood that Victor’s position on the ranch carried a lot of weight, but it was always satisfying for him to see the respect with which he was treated as well. He knew his job inside and out, for a start; and even if the men seemed to think the trick riding and gymnastics were a little eccentric, they couldn’t deny talent when they saw it, and enjoyed watching him with Luchik in the corral.

“You’ve done well tonight,” Victor said, looking at Charlie. He had reached a hand out to hover inches away from each man’s chest as soon as he’d stepped between them. “Tempers can run high when people lose money. Why don’t you go count your winnings, eh?” Curly paused and then nodded; and while he scooped the change he’d won into a leather pouch, Victor turned toward Charlie. “If you’ll sit back down,” he said, “I’ve got something I think you might like. We can all have some.”

Charlie obliged, though there was a thunderous expression on his face. Soon Victor returned with his hip flask and passed it around between the four of them. It wasn’t the beautiful brandy he’d gotten for their camping trip, which Yuuri knew he still had a good portion left of, but it was a lot better than the usual snake oil. Charlie had the first sip.

“Smug bastard,” he said, looking daggers across the bunkhouse at Curly, who was happily doing as Victor had suggested.

“Well you shouldn’t play for such high stakes then,” Walt said, leaning in and wagging a finger at him. “It’s supposed to be a bit of fun. You ain’t meant to be cleanin’ out your pockets.”

“I’ll do what I damn well please, an’ you kin stay out of it,” Charlie snapped.

Victor sipped from his flask and Yuuri sat quietly next to him, feeling somewhat out of his depth. He knew how to play poker but didn’t do it often for this reason – it tended to start fights when people lost more than they were comfortable with. And because he himself was usually lucky to break even.

Earlier in the evening he had propped himself up in his bunk, spread a cloth across his legs, and pulled out a piece of whittling he’d started a few days before. A few of the other ranch hands had noticed his new hobby and given him some tips, and he was beginning to feel more confident in what he was doing, even if it was still basic. He liked making animals in particular, and soon the cloth on his lap was covered with shavings as he peered through his glasses and picked at the wood with his paring knife. Victor had been endearingly interested, sitting on his own bunk not far away and watching, a soft smile on his face. Yuuri had tried not to look because it made him want to drop everything, take him in his arms, and kiss him until they were both breathless. The fact that their bunks were side by side but they rarely had any privacy in here could be maddening at times.

Then Walt had asked them if they were interested in a poker game, and Yuuri had given in because it sounded like fun with the three of them. Curly and Charlie soon joined them and no one had objected, as it was a common enough thing for the ranch hands in the bunkhouse to do to pass the time. Yuuri didn’t know them well, however, and had come to the conclusion that he didn’t particularly want to. Charlie was still sounding off, but Yuuri was more interested in the harmonica that one of the hands had taken out and begun to play. It was one of his favorite sounds when it was played well, soulful and mellow – or quick and lively. At the moment it was somewhere between the two.   

“Aintcha listenin’ to me?” Charlie asked, eyeing Victor and Yuuri.

Yuuri gave him a blank look; and before Victor could reply, Walt said, “Why dontcha take them sour grapes of yours somewheres else. They’re spoilin’ my evenin’.” Charlie glared at him, then shoved his chair out and removed to his bunk without another word. “Maybe we kin get some peace again now,” he said, smiling at his two companions.

“I’ll drink to that,” Yuuri said, sipping from Victor’s flask. They continued to pass it around until it was empty, their conversation becoming increasingly animated as the alcohol flowed, though it wasn’t enough for getting drunk on. Walt had prompted Victor to tell them about brewing drinks in Russia. Carrots, beets and potatoes were all fair game, among other bizarre base ingredients Yuuri would never have thought of. Then one of the ranch hands who was good with a fiddle was apparently persuaded to join the harmonica player, along with someone who could use an upturned tin wash basin as percussion, and a good band got going. It lifted Yuuri’s heart – he wished this kind of thing happened in the bunkhouse more often, rather than card games and arguments and men lying around doing nothing, looking bored and exhausted and fed up with life. As no doubt some of them were.

A couple of men who’d had a fair bit more to drink than the three of them emerged from a noisy group near the band in the corner of the bunkhouse by the door and made a show of asking each other to dance, one of them taking the lead and the other following. A few more couples joined them, and soon there was a little party taking place. Yuuri turned to Victor, his eyes sparkling in the light of the lantern.

“Of course, _solnyshko_ ,” Victor preempted him, standing and putting his hand out, which Yuuri took. “You don’t mind?” he said to Walt, who smiled and said they should both go have some fun; he was plumb tuckered out anyway.

Yuuri soon lost himself in the rhythm, though the whiskey he’d consumed played a part; he felt relaxed and unconcerned about how he looked or what he did, focusing on the music and on Victor. Dancing with him was sublime, both of them sweeping their limbs gracefully through the air and around each other; dipping and spinning, their faces inches apart before they pulled away again. Yuuri noticed some of the men sitting on their bunks and watching them wistfully, as if savoring a performance.

“You dance like an angel,” Victor whispered in his ear when he held him close. Yuuri just looked at him from under heavy lids as a tingle traveled down his spine.

They enjoyed several songs together, then the musicians announced they were going to take a break for some refreshment, and more bottles and flasks of whiskey were passed around. Some of the dancers bowed and clapped each other on the backs, and one of them caught his partner up in his arms and twirled him around, to the delight of everyone who was watching. Yuuri and Victor, swept up in the moment, their faces flushed from drinking and dancing, simultaneously embraced and shared a quick kiss, beaming at each other as a couple of wolf-whistles sounded in the room. With his head spinning slightly, and his heart soaring, Yuuri looked over to where he knew Chris’s bunk was, expecting to be met with a wink or a smirk, if nothing more demonstrative. But to his surprise, Chris frowned and looked away.

“You know, this reminds me of the hoedown last year,” Victor said, still smiling at Yuuri. “One of my fondest memories.”

Shaking off his momentary concern about Chris, Yuuri laughed ruefully. “I wish I could remember.”

Victor suddenly looked nonplussed. “What?” he said simply.

“I said I wish I could remember.” Yuuri shrugged. “I had an awful lot to drink. I got fed up with feeling awkward and having to socialize, and went for the whiskey.”

“I know.”

“And I don’t usually, um, remember things when that happens.” He took in the continuing surprise on Victor’s face. “Oh my god, I did something horribly embarrassing, didn’t I?” he chirped, his pulse beginning to race. “That’d explain the reaction I got from the ranch hands the next day. You were there, weren’t you? Of course you were. Oh, shit…” His hands fluttered up to his face. What a disaster. Possibilities started racing through his mind, each more mortifying than the last.

“Come on.” Victor gently took Yuuri’s arm and steered him toward the door. Pausing to pick up a lantern and light it, he then continued outside, where there was a big old log under a tree some distance from the bunkhouse. Yuuri sat down, his mouth dry, eyes wide, dreading what Victor was about to tell him.

Victor carefully placed the lantern on the ground and sat next to Yuuri, turning to face him. He cupped a red cheek with his hand and said, his eyes kind and shining, “There’s no need to look so worried.” He laughed softly. “You were wonderful. _Wonderful_ , baby. I had the time of my life with you that night.” Long fingers stroked his cheek. “Though since then, you’ve given me better memories still.” He swallowed and looked as if he were about to add something, but fell silent, continuing to gaze into Yuuri’s eyes.

Yuuri was mesmerized and bemused at the same time. “How?” he whispered.

“You want me to tell you about it?”

“I…don’t know.”

Victor dropped his hand from Yuuri’s cheek and then wrapped both of his hands around Yuuri’s own. “Well. Just like now in the bunkhouse, the cowboys at the hoedown started to pair up to dance, because there weren’t many women there – only this time you started it yourself by asking _me_ to dance.” As Yuuri began to recoil in horror, Victor squeezed his hands. “Yuuri, I was delighted. You were so handsome, and charming, and sexy – yes, even though you were very drunk.” He chuckled. “Sure, some people laughed, like they always do when two men dance together. And maybe that was something they didn’t expect you to do. But most everyone who saw us, I think, was impressed by the skill we both had.” He glanced at the bunkhouse. “Just like now.”

“I don’t remember any of this,” Yuuri said unnecessarily, still in a whisper. He was beginning to fervently wish that he did, because of how special that night clearly was to Victor. It was a memory that he could treasure but Yuuri would be forever robbed of. That was, if Victor didn’t suddenly come out and tell him that his drunken antics also included standing on tables, yodeling, vomiting over his shoes, or –

“We got through several dances before you started getting tired and let the men from your ranch take you back with them. I remember you took the lead in one, dipped me back, and you were so close that I thought you were actually going to kiss me.” He smiled. “Even though there were people watching us, I would have let you.”

Yuuri felt suffused by a delicious warmth as Victor’s words slid over him like honey. He chose to ignore a momentary stab of panic at the thought of what the consequences might have been if he _had_ been seen kissing Victor, though that was what had happened tonight as well. It wasn’t unheard of, especially when men had been drinking and dancing with each other.

“And just before you left, you begged me to take you on as an apprentice.”

Yuuri gave a start and his eyes flew open wide.

“I have to admit, I wasn’t sure whether or not you were serious, especially given your…condition at the time. But I was flattered. It was a new and unusual idea, and it had a certain appeal.”

“Oh my god,” was all Yuuri could manage.

“Especially since I already liked you and felt attracted to you before the hoedown; and now, well…it felt like you were giving me permission to – ”

Yuuri gasped, and one hand flew up to his mouth. “And then I disappeared all that time – you must’ve wondered why – ”

“I was confused at first, yes. I thought maybe you’d changed your mind.”

“And then when I came to the Circle C, and still didn’t – ”

“I didn’t understand that either. At first. But you got drunk here a few times, and I started to suspect that maybe your memory wasn’t all that reliable when that happened.” He chuckled as Yuuri continued to stare at him, open-mouthed. “It doesn’t matter, _zvezda moya_. I fell…” He paused. “…for you anyway. And I’d do it a hundred times over. You’re irresistible.”

Yuuri couldn’t believe what he was hearing – about what he’d done; about how Victor felt about it, and about him. Yet here he was, looking at Yuuri with utter sincerity in his eyes. _I am a prize idiot._ But somehow his idiotic drunken self had reached out and seduced the man he’d been secretly wanting anyway. Maybe it was his _sober_ self that had been the idiot.

He didn’t know what to say. So instead he lifted a hand to Victor’s cheek and ran the backs of his fingers down, then leaned forward and captured Victor’s lips in a slow kiss, the heat of which they gradually stoked as they embraced and caressed each other. Eventually Victor mouthed little kisses up Yuuri’s jaw and whispered into his ear, “We could go visit the stable. No one will be out there at this time of night.”

Yuuri felt his cock twitch. He would never view sneaking around a dark stable and getting prickled with hay in awkward places as very romantic; but it was the most convenient way to find privacy with Victor, and they could do worse.

“What are you waiting for, then?” he said flirtatiously, drawing his forefinger in a line down the front of Victor’s shirt. “Let’s go scare the horses.” 

***

Sunshine streaming in through the window woke him the next morning, and he turned over in his bunk to see Victor sitting up and blinking, clearly having just woken up himself. When he looked across at Yuuri, they exchanged secret smiles. Then Yuuri nestled back down underneath his blanket and alternated between lazily watching Victor go through his morning routine and savoring memories of the night before.

It would take some time to digest the fact that he’d come on to Victor at the hoedown when he’d been drunk, then forgotten about it. Talk about giving someone mixed signals. But Victor hadn’t given up, even though he must have felt confused and rejected. That said something, perhaps, about how he felt about Yuuri. The thought sent a pulse of warmth through him down to his toes.

And what they’d done together after all those revelations…that sent another pulse through him for a different reason entirely. They’d gone out with a bedroll on a couple of occasions since their camping trip, hoping to make the most of the warm dry nights while they lasted, though this had been the first time Yuuri had gotten up the courage to straddle Victor with Victor’s cock buried inside of him. He didn’t like the thought of being on full display, so this had been an ideal compromise, as Victor had been propped up in the straw. They had been practically chest to chest, and sliding against Victor’s hard abdomen had been all the extra stimulation Yuuri had needed to come. He’d loved it as they’d nuzzled each other’s necks and exchanged whispered encouragements, swear words and praises, and gasped and moaned into long, wet kisses. As his inhibitions fell away more than he could remember them doing before, he had freely thrust and ground his hips into Victor’s lap, meeting his movements in the beautiful rhythm they often seemed to find together. And he was getting better at looking into Victor’s eyes when he came, as Victor enjoyed doing with him as well. It was still disconcerting in its blistering intimacy, but it felt like they were forging a deep connection, and that was worth it. Yuuri had never trusted anyone so much or allowed himself to be so open and vulnerable before; and as time went by, Victor continually proved that there was nothing he needed to fear _._ It was wonderful to be able to share with someone like this and know it was OK to let his guard down – but it was also taking a lot of getting used to.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Victor said. He had pulled on his pants and shirt, which gapped open unbuttoned, and was sitting on his bed combing his hair.

Yuuri smirked and gave him a sidelong look. “Just thinking about last night.”

Victor grinned back at him, his blue eyes gleaming. “Don’t let on to the minister today, then. He’d have some choice words for us both.”

This hit Yuuri like a splash of cold water in the face. “Shit,” he said, “I forgot.” The two of them rarely attended church, unlike most of the other ranch hands, who went for the social value even if they weren’t very interested in the religious side. A ranch hand had fallen off one of the buildings to his death while repairing the roof a few days before; and though Yuuri and Victor hadn’t known him well, they shared in the collective grief for a hard-working man who had been one of their own, and did not demur when Abe Connor sent word around asking them all to attend church that Sunday, where the reverend would be saying something in his honor. Unfortunately for Yuuri, however, the thought of hauling himself out of bed this early on a Sunday to go to church was about as welcome as a plague of bedbugs.

“Well it’s a good thing I reminded you,” Victor said. He had finished dressing and walked over to give Yuuri a kiss on his temple, having first checked that no one was paying them any attention. “Come to the cook shack while there’s still some breakfast left, and then we can travel into town together.”

***

_What the hell sort of a topic is this to commemorate someone’s death? I can’t listen to any more. I’ve got to get out of here._

But Yuuri simply pressed his lips tightly together, crossed his arms in front of him, and tapped his foot as he sat in the pew, with Victor on one side of him and Walt on the other. There had been no problem with the respectful, if rather generalized, eulogy the minister had given just before the start of his sermon. What Yuuri had not liked, however, was the earlier reading from the Old Testament that had said it was an abomination for a man to have sex with another man, in so many words; and now as if to make sure everyone had been paying attention, the minister was expounding upon the virtues of marriage and the need to resist temptation into acts of perversion. _Perversion_. Yuuri flamed with the indignity of it. What did this man know; what did he think made him qualified to pass such judgment? And what, if anything, did this have to do with the poor man who had recently lost his life?

He glanced at Victor and saw that his chin was sunk onto his chest and his eyes were closed, his hands folded in his lap. Fine, then – he was patiently riding this out, and Yuuri could do that too. He ran through the words to songs he knew in his head, conjuring up some accompanying music as well; even imagined himself dancing to it – with Victor, sensually, right in front of this annoying, sanctimonious little man. It passed the time, and eventually he filed out with everyone at the end of the service, determined never to set foot in this building again.

Once outside, Chris pulled Victor over to a space where they could talk; the church was set a little way back from the rest of the town, surrounded by mountain mahogany trees and neatly trimmed if yellowing grass. Yuuri followed, though it appeared that Chris was intent on addressing Victor rather than himself.

“You know why Reverend Howell gave that particklar talk today on that particklar topic, don’t you?” he said, and Yuuri had never seen him look so earnest.

Victor’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean…” He glanced at Yuuri. “He hasn’t found out about – ”

Chris held up a hand. “Naw, not you two. Far as I know, you’re safe – for now. But a coupla other guys from the Belleview ranch are in the shit. You ain’t heard?”

Victor shook his head, and Yuuri continued to stand quietly to the side, listening intently.

“This was at the Wagon Wheel the other night. Me an’ Zach was there, mindin’ our own business. They were jest two drunk guys in a crowded an’ noisy saloon, nothin’ unusual. They was messin’ around, an’ one of them pulls the other onto his lap an’ they start kissin’ each other.” He gave Victor a pointed look. “It weren’t in fun, neither – they was serious about it, with no mind to who was watchin’. Well it weren’t long afore the sheriff hisself comes in with a coupla guys who fetched him, an’ arrests an’ handcuffs ’em, an’ hauls ’em off to jail.”

Victor folded his arms and gazed at Chris with a grave expression. Yuuri felt his pulse quicken, thinking of times when he and Victor had done similar things – not consciously with people watching, but who knew who might have wandered by and seen them? He was just about to speak when Chris held his hand up again.

“Now jest shush fer a minute an’ listen up, ’cause this concerns you two, as well as me an’ Zach an’ other guys like us. Them two guys is gonna git off lucky, word has it, ’cause they was drunk. But once they’re outta jail, they ain’t gonna be goin’ back to the Bellevue, ’cause there won’t be jobs for ’em to go back to there. But things is gonna be harder for us now, too, because of the ruckus they caused in this here town – which was always more than a mite unfriendly toward guys like us, if ya get my meanin’. One thang I know is that the local ranch bosses – includin’ our Abe – has been told to mind their men. An’ Reverend Howell took advantage of all the folks fillin’ up his pews today so that he could get the message around that the people in this town won’t tolerate such behavior. If ya ask me, that means the next pair of guys who get sloppy about hidin’ what they’re doin’ is gonna get more than just a few days of jail time for it.” He eyed Victor.

Yuuri walked up to Chris and said heatedly, “What’s that supposed to mean? You think we haven’t been careful?”

“Yuuri,” Victor said in a low voice, his brow furrowed. Whether it was a caution or a complaint, Yuuri wasn’t sure.

“God’s honest truth? Yeah, I do,” Chris said, turning to face him. “If ya think you’re gonna disagree, I’m gonna ask ya to recall _last night –_ ” He glanced at Victor before looking back at Yuuri. “ – when the two of yuhz _kissed_ each other in front of everybody in the bunkhouse.” He paused. “Or are ya gonna try to tell me that’s just ’cause you was drunk too?”

Yuuri’s belligerent attitude evaporated, and he and Victor exchanged glances. How could he have forgotten so quickly? Yuuri asked himself. He _hadn’t_ been drunk this time, so it was no excuse for his actions or for them slipping from his mind. What had driven him – driven them both – to do something so reckless? Yuuri wanted to openly show that he loved Victor, and was not ashamed of it; but he also knew that doing so could potentially – probably, even – bring severe consequences down on them both. It felt like the men in the Circle C bunkhouse were a fairly tolerant bunch, but it would only take one person with a beef against one or both of them, or who felt it was his Christian duty, or some other agenda, to…well, Yuuri didn’t want to even consider the horrible possibilities. And they _weren’t_ all tolerant in the bunkhouse, as he’d discovered the night of the blizzard when he’d heard one of the men talking to another about Yuuri using language that made his feelings plain.  

“You’re right,” Yuuri said quietly to Chris. “We’d better be more careful.”

Victor looked down. His cheeks were pink, and Yuuri realized this was a rare moment of embarrassment for him. After a pause, he looked back up at Chris. “Thanks, buddy,” he said, patting his arm. “I’m glad I’ve got you watching my back. And Yuuri’s.”

“Yeah, well…we gotta look out fer each other. Jest mind how y’all go, ya hear?” He tipped the brim of his hat, nodded, and walked away toward the town corral.

“Victor,” Yuuri said fervently, beginning to reach out to touch him and then stopping and lowering his arm. “I…I don’t know what came over me last night. I’m sorry – the last thing I want to do is get us into trouble.”

“It was my fault as much as yours,” Victor replied with a rueful grin. “I should know better by now. You drive me to distraction, Yuuri Taylor.” He chuckled. “Well, let’s consider ourselves warned thanks to Chris, and just be extra careful, hm?”

“Yeah. I hate all the sneaking around – well, you know that – but it’s better than…” His voice trailed off and he swallowed.

“Than the alternatives. I know.” Victor’s voice softened. “If it’s any help, I’ve been sneaking around, as you call it, for years, and have never gotten into any trouble. So I figure I must be doing something right.” He searched Yuuri’s eyes. “I hope you feel you can trust me to carry on that way. I’d never want to see you get hurt.”

Yuuri fought off the urge to embrace him, though the specter of a long line of Victor’s past partners briefly rose in his mind. “You either. Of course I trust you, Victor.” He allowed himself to place a hand on his elbow. “Look, let’s get away from here. I need to pick up a few things from the stores in town – do you want to come with me? I’ll take you to the drug store; you’ll be in for a treat there.”

Victor smiled. “I like the sound of that.”         

***

True to his word, when they’d finished their other business in town, Yuuri led the way to the drug store, past the dispensing counter, and on toward the back of the store where the sun shone through a window onto a wooden glass-fronted counter containing more than a dozen tubs filled with a brightly colored frozen substance that Yuuri explained was gelato.

“Antonio reopened this place about a month ago after he bought it from the last owner, and I stopped by once when I was in town on my own. This stuff really cheered me up. I thought maybe we could both do with some, what do you think?”

Victor leaned toward the glass and examined the array in front of him. “Looks good. Isn’t it ice cream, then?”

“Sort of. Antonio told me that gelato has less fat, but it also isn’t whipped as much. Or something like that. It’s softer than ice cream too – and I think it tastes better, or at least this does. The flavors I’ve tried, anyway.”

“Sounds like it would hit the spot on a hot summer day like this. What would you recommend I try?”

“I had pistachio and crema last time I was here, and they were both wonderful. Crema is just plain cream – apparently it’s the real test of skill for the person who makes the gelato, because there’s nothing to hide the taste of the main ingredients, so they have to be judged on their own merits.”

Victor looked at him. “I’m impressed. You must’ve had quite a conversation with this Antonio fellow.”

Yuuri shrugged and looked down. “I, um, guess I have a bit of a sweet tooth. I’m usually pretty good at behaving myself, but I give in once in a while.”

“And why not – life’s for living. OK, I’ll try some.”

Victor perused the flavors while Antonio, having spotted them, came over to the counter and warmly greeted Yuuri. The three of them chatted for a few minutes, and then Yuuri gave a start when he saw his mother enter the shop and approach with three children in tow.

“Hi there. Long time no see,” she said mildly. She was wearing her Sunday best – a lemon-colored dress with a lace collar, white sandals, and a straw hat with a blue ribbon tied around the band. There were two girls with her who appeared to be about five or six, and a younger boy who was just out of toddlerhood. Yuuri had never seen them before.

“Um, hi,” he said. After a pause, he added, “How are you?”

“Oh, fine,” she said, reaching into her purse, pulling out a cloth, and wiping the little boy’s mouth before quickly putting the cloth away again. “And I guess this is Victor with you?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri replied as Victor turned to look. “Victor, this is my mom, Eva Taylor.”

“Charmed,” he said with a smile, shaking her hand.

“I hope you’re looking after my boy on that ranch over there. You must be keeping him awful busy – it’d be nice to see him once in a while.” She smiled politely, but her expression was not entirely friendly. Then she turned back to Yuuri. “You know, you oughta at least talk to your dad occasionally while you’re doing this apprenticeship thing, so you’re not completely out of touch with what’s been going on at the ranch. It’s not as if we’re far away – ”

“Mom,” Yuuri broke in as Victor and Antonio simply looked on in silence, “what are you doing here with all these children?”

“Oh.” She brightened. “They’re Daisy Hooper’s kids. You know, one of the ladies from my church. I’m looking after them for her for a spell this morning. They’ve been so good that I told them I’d buy them some ice cream.” She looked down at the three of them. “Say hi to Yuuri.” They all echoed, “Hi, Yuuri.”

“Well hello,” he said. “So you behaved yourselves all through church this morning, did you? That’s more than _I_ can manage. Now I’ll tell you something – since my mom decided to bring you here, you need to know that this is a special kind of soft, tasty ice cream called gelato. It’s made by this guy over here called Antonio – just like they do in Rome.”

Antonio beamed at the children from behind the counter. “ _Buongiorno_ – good morning, my little _bambini_. And what can I get for you today?”

“Where’s Rome?” one of the girls asked.

“The capital of _Italia_ , where I come from,” Antonio replied. “You go one day – it’s a fantastic place.”

“Can’t see,” the little boy complained, standing on tiptoe in front of the counter.

Yuuri knelt down and scooped him up, holding him at his hip so that he could peer through the glass. Victor was grinning at him, having witnessed the proceedings in silence up to now. Yuuri grinned back, then pointed to the gelato, and the boy’s eyes followed his finger. “Do you like chocolate? Or strawberry? There’s some nut flavors too. Oh – and there’s mint, look. I think I might have some of that.”

“Look at you,” his mother commented. “You’re so good with kids. I keep wondering when you’re going to make me a grandma. You won’t meet any nice women if you’re hanging around ranches all the time.”

“Mom,” Yuuri said, his face turning pink.

“I’m just saying – ”

“Well don’t.” As she eyed him with indignant surprise, he continued to help the children choose from the flavors on offer, and was eventually joined in the endeavor by his mother. Each of the youngsters soon had some gelato in a wafer cone, and Eva left with her little flock, shooting a quick backwards glance Yuuri’s way and saying, “Come visit soon. I’ll make apple pie.” The door swung shut behind her.

Yuuri and Victor chose the flavors they wanted and were soon licking their gelato outside on the boardwalk as they slowly walked to the town corral. Yuuri had been looking forward to this, but now he couldn’t help but feel that the treat had been somewhat spoiled by the appearance of his mother and her unwelcome admonitions. He hadn’t missed them, and wondered in cynical amusement how her half-hearted offer of apple pie was supposed to change anything.

“Yuuri, this is delicious,” Victor said, breaking their long silence.

“Yeah.”

After another silent spell, during which he finished his gelato, Victor gazed at him keenly. “It looked like you enjoyed being with the children back there in the store.”

“Well they were around a lot when I was younger,” he said, trying to shake off the gloom that had descended upon him. “My mom likes helping to look after other people’s kids. I guess it was kind of fun playing with them, teasing them, tickling them, that kind of thing.” He smiled now, thinking of the pudgy, warm little boy he’d picked up and held. “I’ve never been in any hurry to get married, but I always took it for granted that I’d have kids of my own one day. I…oh.” He stopped and blushed, realizing too late the likely import of his words on Victor. He’d shared these thoughts idly with people like Phichit before, but that was different. And they’d been shunted to the back of his mind for a long time until now. “But it’s no big deal,” he added – lamely, he knew.

“It’s a big deal to you, I think,” Victor said quietly.

Yuuri swallowed. He didn’t feel like finishing his cone, and stared at it. “We can’t always have everything we want. I wish we could be a proper couple, too, but that’s impossible.” He felt a bolt of fear shoot through him at the bald-faced statement, which had seemed to tumble out of his mouth before his brain had registered it.

Victor’s face clouded. “What do you mean by a ‘proper couple’?”

The minister’s words, and Chris’s, echoed inside Yuuri’s head. With a sigh, he said, “I mean being accepted for who we are. If we were a man and a woman we could get married, have a family, live together openly, and not have to hide how we feel.” The anger he’d experienced during the sermon that morning suddenly rushed back. “Instead we have to sneak around behind people’s backs and hope we don’t get caught. In the meantime, I’ve got my parents constantly pestering me about what they want. You saw what she was like just now. God, if they found out what you and I have been getting up to…” He caught himself, too late; ashamed that he sounded like a child who was afraid of being punished for pilfering candy from the jar in the general store. He was a better person than this – wasn’t he? But this kind of discussion was foreign to him, and he wasn’t sure what the best way was to go about it. Probably not by blurting hurtful things out to Victor, for starters. The fact that this was shaping up to be a very bad day didn’t excuse that kind of behavior toward him. “I’m sorry,” he choked, flinging the remainder of his melting cone away into the weeds across the road.

Victor continued to look at him, his expression troubled. “You said your parents tell you what they want. But what is it that _you_ want?”

“What I want?”

“For your life, your future?”

“Oh, is that all,” Yuuri said quietly. “ I’ve never thought about it in much detail before.” He didn’t like where this conversation was going, and was mentally kicking himself for being so clumsy with Victor, who did not look happy about what he was hearing. He softened his voice and said earnestly, “Victor – meeting you and being together at the Circle C is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He wanted desperately to tell him that he loved him, but as always stopped just short, unsure if it was too early – there was so much about a relationship like this that he was having to work out on his own, with no experience on which to base it. He carried on, “It’s just that…well, I might end up having to reconsider things I’d assumed for a long time, and look at new possibilities. And,” he hastened to add, “I think that could be a really good thing. But I just need some time.”

Victor gave him a little grin, though Yuuri thought he still read worry in his eyes. “Sure,” he said. “I can understand that.”

They collected their horses from the corral and rode mostly in silence back to the ranch. Yuuri wished he’d handled their conversation in town differently, though he wasn’t sure what he could have changed for the better. Not getting out of bed that morning might have been a start, he reckoned.


	30. Chapter 30

Yuuri swung his rope in a wide, easy loop and slung it with a practiced hand; it fell around the calf’s neck and pulled taut. Urging Biscuit into a canter, he led the stray back to the herd. They were moving a large number of cattle today to new pastures with better fodder, only a few miles distant from the ranch along the river. With their other tasks keeping them busy, Yuuri and Victor didn’t attend longer roundups that involved traveling further afield; though after their own camping trip that had given him such wonderful memories, Yuuri was tempted to ask Abe if they could come along on one. It wouldn’t be just the two of them, of course, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t sneak off for a while…

He jumped down off of Biscuit and pulled the rope from the calf’s neck, coiling it back up and looking around. Though they’d been working together with the cattle most of the morning, Victor had veered off to help a couple of the other ranch hands with part of the herd that had been tempted to stray into a canyon, while Yuuri had chased after the wandering calves here. At least boxes of dynamite shouldn’t figure into it this time, he thought with some relief. He sipped from his canteen and considered whether he could find the time to surreptitiously fit some roping practice in at the corral later that afternoon; he hadn’t told Victor that he was going to add that to the tricks he’d already been practicing for the rodeo, hoping to make it a surprise – Victor’s enthusiasm for them was infectious.

Yuuri had hooked his lasso back onto the saddle and was doing the same with his canteen when he heard the crack of gunshots in the air. He spun around in alarm, looking in the direction whence they had come. One of the men was sitting on his horse a way up a slope, firing his rifle at a pack of coyotes that had launched an attack on the cattle. Soon another ranch hand joined him, and a few of the coyotes were down – but the noise of the gunshots had spooked the herd; and now Yuuri saw that their flight had turned into a stampede that was heading away from the danger, and toward him.

“Shit,” he breathed. They should have known better than that. A pack of coyotes might take down a calf or a lame cow, but they weren’t much of a threat compared to a stampede, which would at best scatter the cattle where they weren’t meant to go, and at worst mow down everything in its path, living or not. Including him, if he didn’t get out of here pronto.

That was when he realized Biscuit was no longer at his side. He’d only been distracted for a moment, but that was all it took – the shots and the thundering hoofbeats of the approaching cattle had obviously frightened his otherwise doughty horse. He scoured the horizon in all directions and spied her galloping away, as any intelligent being would when it was being pursued by a multi-footed, many-tonned wall of destruction.

With no other options open to him here on the open range, where there wasn’t even a nearby tree to climb into for safety, Yuuri cupped his hands around his mouth and cried Biscuit’s name several times as he ran from the approaching stampede. But even if she heard him, she was smart enough not to turn around and head straight back. He continued to flee without a glance backward, cutting across the approaching line of cattle in an attempt to get out of their way, though he knew from the noise behind him and the rumbling of the ground that there wasn’t much time left.

He’d never been this close to death before, and an electric panic filled him as he thought that he was never going to be again, because this was _it_. No one on foot would survive being trampled by a stampede, and no human being could outrun a herd of cattle. A cowboy should never get off his horse so close to a herd, because it was his protection – Yuuri knew that. One moment of stupidity or carelessness and you were finished.

He longed to cry out or scream, but no sound emerged from his dry, constricted throat as he dashed madly across the dusty plain, the fast-disappearing Biscuit nothing but a speck in the distance now. An image of Victor suddenly rose in his mind – mounted on Luchik in the corral that first day at the Circle C, when Yuuri came to watch him perform his trick riding and had felt awestruck, inspired, transformed. Then it shifted into one of Victor’s shining blue eyes, pink cheeks and mussed hair as they made love and Yuuri felt like he’d come home to everything he’d ever wanted; where the rest of the world had disappeared until there was only himself and Victor, melting into each other. Beautiful, talented Victor, who’d desired Yuuri as Yuuri had desired him, and waited patiently until Yuuri had come to him, desperate for his touch. Who’d taught him and looked after him and cared for him; who had asked him what he wanted for his future – and if nothing else, Yuuri knew it had to have Victor in it, some way, somehow.

Only none of it was going to happen. It was all going to end, right now. Sobs escaped his throat, and he considered halting where he was, screwing his eyes shut, and just allowing the inevitable to occur. He slowed, but found he could not actually stop moving – the instinct to survive, however futile, was too strong. He would keep going until the very last. _I’m sorry, Victor._ He didn’t know if he’d said it aloud – the sound would have been drowned out anyway – or whether it was a just final thought passing through his fevered brain.

So when he suddenly felt himself being lifted up, he thought he must be imagining things – or maybe this was what dying was like. But the arms that were holding him felt physically real, as did the warm body they belonged to. He was swung smoothly through the air and found himself sitting at the front of a saddle on a white horse. He knew that saddle, and he recognized the arms that wrapped around from behind him to guide the reins. It was Victor, and they were sitting on Luchik, flying like the wind out of the way of the oncoming stampede. He was vaguely aware that Victor had to have dropped down to the side of his saddle in order to whisk him up. It must have taken incredible strength and precision.

When they were safely clear, with nothing in their way but dispersing clouds of dust that had been stirred up by the countless hooves, Victor flicked the reins and Luchik slowed. The thunderous noise faded away, and it was finally possible to talk – though Yuuri, feeling dazed as he struggled to make sense of everything that had just happened, had no idea what to say. He felt his body shaking as he considered how close he had been to losing his life.

Then there were words whispered in his ear in the melodious voice he knew so well: “I love you, baby. I’m not going to let you leave me like that.”

Yuuri gasped, but remained silent until they came to a stop at the mouth of the narrow canyon where Victor and the other ranch hands had been herding the cattle before the stampede. The other men had moved off to try to manage the animals, and so the area had returned to its quiet solitude. Victor slid off Luchik and held a hand up to help Yuuri do the same. Yuuri was still shaking, so much so that he wobbled as he tried to stand; but he soon steadied himself and stared at Victor in amazement. Victor, in turn, just grinned at him as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened – either in saving Yuuri from the stampede, or what he’d just said. Out of the corner of his eye, Yuuri saw a couple of the Circle C men fast approaching them. Victor turned and gave them a quick wave, then looked back at Yuuri.

Finding his voice at last, Yuuri said softly, “I love you, too, Victor.” As the other men drew up to them, Victor tipped Yuuri’s Stetson up playfully from under the brim and gave his cheek a friendly pat. His blue eyes were sparkling.

“Jesus, Yuuri, we thought you were done for.” It was Mike, Walt’s red-haired friend.

The tall, slim Charlie had ridden over with him. “I don’t know how Victor did it,” he said. “You’re one helluva lucky guy. You hurt at all?”

“I’m OK…just kind of jumpy right now, if I’m honest.” Yuuri took his hat off and briefly untied his bandanna to mop his brow. “My horse ran off too – you didn’t see her, did you?”

The four of them conversed for a few minutes as they filled each other in on what had happened. The cowboys had caught up to the stampede and strategically ridden alongside it until the cattle had slowed down and started milling around. They now needed to herd the animals back to the pasture, which Victor volunteered to help do, as well as fetch Yuuri’s horse, which luckily Charlie had spotted not far away, grazing happily as if nothing had happened. Yuuri offered to ride with Victor, who demurred, saying the horses would travel more quickly and not get as tired if they only had one rider. He suggested that it might be better for Yuuri to wait at the mouth of the canyon and take some time to recover, promising that he would return with Biscuit in a while. Charlie and Mike agreed that this was a good idea, so Yuuri gave in and, accepting Victor’s canteen, sat down against the cool sheer wall of the canyon and closed his eyes while taking welcome sips of water.

 _I almost got killed. Victor saved me. He told me he loves me._ These thoughts fought each other for dominance in his mind as he waited for Victor and tried but failed to relax, his emotions coursing through him. He ended up walking back and forth through the secluded little area; a warm, gentle breeze blew through the canyon opening, and some rays of sunlight reached the bottom, though most of the area was in shadow. The walls, which were almost vertical, appeared to consist of sandstone laid down in alternate stripes of tan and a darker reddish hue. Most of the denizens of the area were little rodents of varying descriptions; Yuuri saw a head or a tail poke out of a hole in the rock or the ground as he wandered, and occasionally his ears caught a yip or a squeak.

Finally he heard the sound of hooves approaching, and soon Victor entered the canyon on Luchik. Biscuit was beside him; Victor had strung a length of rope between them and tied it to her saddle. She appeared to have settled back into her usual unperturbed demeanor. Yuuri stroked her muzzle and watched Victor dismount. “I’ve never seen her spook like that before. I should’ve been more careful. Victor…you saved my life.”

Victor walked over to him; his easy, playful manner from earlier having vanished. Now his expression was grave, his eyes searching. It looked like he was struggling to find the right words to say. Yuuri’s heart swelled within him and he thought maybe he understood how Victor felt, because he felt the same – that they’d come within a hair’s breadth of disaster, and had been shaken more than either had let on. He raised a hand to Victor’s cheek and held it there, gazing into his eyes, unsure himself what to say. His lips parted but no words came out. Suddenly Victor placed both of his hands on Yuuri’s cheeks as well, and Yuuri saw fear in his eyes – fear of what might have happened if he hadn’t been able to rescue him from the stampede. He thought back to the images that had passed through his mind as he’d believed he was about to die; how he’d been certain he would never see Victor again. Yet by some miracle, here they were, safe in this moment.

They pulled their Stetsons off in unison, tossed them to the ground, and surged together, their hands leaving each other’s faces to grip and cling as if one was in danger of losing the other all over again. Victor’s kisses were firm and rough, full of an almost desperate need, his tongue sweeping into Yuuri’s mouth and claiming it. Yuuri felt dizzy with the sudden desire that had blazed up between them. But it was something more as well – it felt like they were declaring their determination to carry on living and loving, and beat fate at its own game. Or better still, holding up a middle finger to it. The fire that burned in Victor now sparked in Yuuri, and he returned Victor’s kisses with equal vigor, his fingers raking through the short hairs at the nape of Victor’s neck. Victor pressed himself against Yuuri and that they took several slow paces back, never breaking their kiss, until Yuuri felt the cool stone of the canyon wall behind. He groaned as Victor ground against him, mercilessly insistent. He’d never been like this before, and Yuuri reveled in it, responding in kind.

They gasped into each other, and Yuuri felt his face flush as he swept kisses over Victor’s jaw and neck. With trembling fingers he reached under Victor’s bandanna and began to unbutton his shirt – a maddeningly slow process. Finally he gave up in exasperation. “Strip – now,” he said in a commanding voice he never knew he had. Victor’s pupils dilated and his breaths quickened as he complied, though when he went to take his bandanna off, Yuuri glared at him. “Keep it on,” he growled. He flung his own bandanna off, then his shirt, then his boots and remaining clothing while Victor did the same, within easy touching distance but bent on removing as much of the physical barrier between them as quickly as possible. He was staring hungrily at Yuuri, surprise and desire chasing each other across his face.

When they were finished, Yuuri hooked a finger under Victor’s bandanna and yanked him firmly but gently forward, meeting his lips in a searing kiss. Victor angled himself inward, and they both groaned as their erections pressed against each other. Closing his eyes against the building pleasure, Yuuri tilted his head back as he braced a foot against the wall, opening himself further to Victor, while at the same time reaching around to knead Victor’s ass with both hands and pulling him as close as he could.

“Yuuri – oh Christ,” Victor breathed against his neck.

“Have you…” Yuuri began in a hoarse whisper. He swallowed and tried again. “Have you got any of that oil on you?” He knew Victor kept a few bottles and left them in useful places such as the stable. He often carried one around with him too, given their penchant for spur-of-the-moment encounters in unpredictable places, but it was just as well to ask. Though at the moment he was so worked up that he would have been willing to do without and to hell with the consequences.

“I...I’m pretty sure I’ve got some in my saddlebags.”

“Go get it. Then come back here and fuck me. Fuck me hard.”

Victor swallowed and nodded, a flush spreading down from his face to his chest. As he went to his saddlebags and located the little bottle, Yuuri drank in the beauty of his nude, aroused body and felt another dizzy surge of desire – as well as the spark of power he was coming to enjoy more often as his confidence grew.

When he rejoined Yuuri, Victor pressed against him again, holding the bottle with one hand and cupping the back of Yuuri’s head with the other. “Tell me what you want, baby,” he whispered against his cheek. “How should I take you?”

Yuuri felt himself react to Victor’s breath, his words, his body, with a gasp and a tremble. “Here, against the wall,” he said.

Victor exhaled, looking at him darkly, and decanted a generous amount of oil into his hand, then replaced the stopper and set the bottle on the ground. He poured most of it into his other hand and slicked it quickly over his cock. “I’ll let you do this to me next time. I’m afraid I’m not in the mood to wait right now.” He gave Yuuri a grin, his eyes glinting. “Jump up and wrap your legs around me.”

Yuuri looked at him quizzically, unsure for a moment. He’d imagined them standing either face to face, or with him facing the wall and Victor behind. Would this really work?

“Trust me,” Victor said more gently. “I think you’ll like this.”

He did as Victor said, and found that the muscles he’d developed through horse riding made it easy. Victor helped him adjust his position, then used the remaining bit of oil in his hand to slick a finger and work it into Yuuri, leaning forward to kiss him while he did so. Adrift on the amazing variety of sensations, Yuuri soon found himself panting and aching to be filled, and his spark of confidence returned. “I’m ready,” he said, wrapping his arms loosely around Victor’s neck. “Fuck me now.”

Victor responded immediately by sliding his finger out, lining himself up, and bracing his arms against the canyon wall on either side of Yuuri. They both moaned as Victor pushed into him slowly. “Vitya,” Yuuri sighed, running his fingers through the loose, longer strands of Victor’s hair on top of his head. He couldn’t imagine anything better than the feel of the man he loved inside of him. The angle was new and different, but as Victor started to move, he was still hitting the sensitive area that always raised his pleasure to new heights until he felt he might drown in it.

“ _Lyubov moya_ ,” Victor breathed, capturing Yuuri’s mouth in a kiss as he worked his hips in a steady rhythm.

His own breaths coming quicker now, Yuuri struggled to maintain the kiss and gasped around it. Finally he said, “Victor, please – harder. I…I need it.” Victor’s eyes were hooded with lust and his cock twitched inside Yuuri, whose own jerked in response. Yuuri’s head tilted backward against the rock and a loud, cracked moan escaped from his throat as Victor began to thrust in earnest, harder than he’d ever done before.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Victor said in a low, hoarse voice near his ear.

“No, it’s – _ah –_ good…don’t stop...” Yuuri dug the fingers of one hand into Victor’s back, while he clutched Victor’s bandanna with the other as if holding on for life. He swore softly several times over, unable to summon any more coherent way of expressing the tension inside of him that was pulling deliciously, unbearably taut as Victor pounded into him, an impassioned mixture of English and Russian spilling from his lips. The primal sounds of him coming undone were pushing Yuuri over the edge too. He took his hand from Victor’s back and instinctively began to stroke himself while Victor watched darkly. “ _Yes_ ,” Yuuri cried out, and then echoed it over and over, fisting Victor’s bandanna, his feet clinging to the small of his back, until the coil of tension inside of him snapped and he shouted as he came in hard pulses that shook through him. He forced himself to keep his eyes open, even as his mouth gapped in an “O” of almost painful pleasure – and saw something similar reflected in those mesmerizing blue eyes as Victor exhaled loudly and tipped over into bliss himself.  

They remained as they were for some time, the aftershocks of Yuuri’s orgasm rippling through him as Victor panted into the crook of his neck; the fine, soft strands of his hair brushing against his chin. Yuuri felt like he’d climbed to an impossible high and was now drifting gently down, the frenzy that had possessed him calming into a warm, satisfied glow. Had he really said and done those things just now? But once again he saw that there was no reason to feel ashamed. Victor had moved his arms from the canyon wall and gathered Yuuri up in them as his legs slid bonelessly from around his waist back to the ground. “ _Lyubov moya_ ,” he repeated as he pressed a soft kiss to Yuuri’s cheek.

Yuuri held a hand loosely at Victor’s waist and stroked his hair with the other. “You said that before. What does it mean?”

“ ‘My love.’ ” Victor kissed above his eyebrow, then the tip of his nose.

“Oh.” A grin spread across his face, and his heart fluttered. “I like the sound of that.”

“Me too.” Victor was in no hurry to let go, meeting his eyes and running the back of a finger down his cheek. “I…was afraid, earlier, that I’d never get the chance to say it.”

Yuuri didn’t know how it was possible to feel any more full of love for this wonderful man. “I wanted to tell you myself for a while now,” he said, “but, um…I don’t have much context for these things, and didn’t know what the right time would be.”

Victor chuckled. “I guess we both picked a good one.”

“Yeah.” Yuuri turned his head and looked around them. Their clothes were strewn across the canyon floor, and they themselves looked rather the worse for wear, having already been sweaty and dusty from the stampede before, and doubly so now. They’d raked each other’s hair into crazy angles, and were covered with the mess that Yuuri had made as well. “I guess we’ll be visiting the river later to wash ourselves and our clothes,” he added, and snickered. “The guys at the ranch must be thinking by now that we’ve got a fetish or something about it. The number of times I end up scrubbing my underwear in a week…”

This elicited an amused laugh from Victor, the tension of the day quickly lifting now. “Admit it, though – you like it.”

“What, washing my clothes, or the things I’ve been doing to get them dirty?”

“Both, because sometimes we even do them at the same time.”

Now it was Yuuri’s turn to chuckle. “You know, we’d better get back before we’re missed.”

“About that…” Victor ran a hand through his hair. “Um, well, it might be better to walk it if we can, rather than ride. Though it’s up to you, of course.”

“Wha – oh.” Yuuri’s cheeks flushed. “Fuck.”

***

“Hey, pard,” Chris said to Victor as he led his horse into the stable. He stopped and watched as Victor fitted a new cinch strap to his saddle, which he had sat on the wooden vaulting horse. “You know what Yuuri’s doin’ out there in the corral, swingin’ his lasso all around?”

“Hm? Well I know he’s been practicing a lot for the rodeo in a few weeks, though I wasn’t aware he was going to be doing any rope tricks. He told me he wanted to work alone out there for a while.” He looked thoughtfully at the door to the corral, then returned his attention to the saddle, giving the strap a tug and then adjusting the buckle.

Chris lowered his voice. “I heard about what happened on the range earlier – ya know, about you savin’ Yuuri from gettin’ trampled by that stampede. You both doin’ OK? Musta given ya quite a scare.”

Victor glanced up and smiled. “Thanks, but we’re getting by. Had a good meal at the cook shack, and just winding down now with stuff out here. It takes more than that to rattle a couple of seasoned cowboys.” He smirked at the irony in his words, and knew that Chris would pick up on it too. They’d both been through too many scrapes to pretend to each other that they were protected by impregnable emotional shells and laughed at danger when it reared its head. The smarter men knew that such people weren’t the ones they’d want at their side when the chips were down anyway, because they lacked empathy and good old-fashioned horse sense and would more than likely get everybody killed, including themselves.

As he finished his work on the strap and fetched a can of linseed oil and a soft cloth, Victor asked Chris how things were with himself and Zach, and they chatted while Victor began the task of rubbing the oil into his saddle. Chris seemed to be content, as usual.

“An’ how are you an’ Yuuri doin’ these days – that is, when one of ya ain’t rescuin’ the other from certain death?”

A sudden warm glow spread across Victor’s cheeks, and he couldn’t help but grin as he rubbed his cloth in circles over the tooled leather.

“That good, huh?”

“We’re in love.” He knew there was a sappy smile on his face now, but he didn’t care.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Chris chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Look, I better get Domino here stabled. I’ll see ya later.”

“See you.” Victor finished treating his saddle while Chris tended to his horse and left, then returned his kit to Luchik’s stall and got out the tools he used for grooming. “Hello, gorgeous,” he said he started to brush his horse’s mane. “You were a star today.” The warm, dizzy feeling that had suffused him as he’d talked to Chris drained away as he thought again about what had happened that afternoon. He’d concealed even from Yuuri just how shaken he’d been by what a close shave it was – that was something it wouldn’t do any good for him to know.

It was lucky that Charlie had seen what had happened to Yuuri, because Victor hadn’t been paying attention at the time. Charlie had called him over and pointed; and as soon as Victor was aware of Yuuri’s plight, he was urging Luchik around the stampeding herd as fast as he would go. He had begun to doubt that he would make it, and the memory of that moment spread a sickening chill through his gut. Then, when he’d actually caught up to Yuuri, he’d had to perform the most difficult trick riding of his life: climbing down the side of the saddle not to display himself or pick up a trinket lying on the ground, but to lift Yuuri’s full weight while he was running. What was more, Victor’s position on the saddle had meant that he couldn’t use his lower body strength to help him; he’d had to rely on his arm and shoulder muscles alone. He was thankful he’d kept up with his regular workouts, but even so, the feat had almost demanded more than he could give. If it had been an ordinary performance at a corral or rodeo, he couldn’t have done it; it was the desperation of the moment that had somehow given him the extra strength he had needed. He had no idea how he could have lived with the knowledge that he’d tried and failed to save Yuuri from being trampled to death. Jesus, they really did live a precarious existence out here.

It also seemed crazy that it had taken such a situation for him to admit to himself that he loved Yuuri, he mused as he continued to brush Luchik’s mane, then his tail. Maybe he’d been trying to protect himself from getting hurt, as futile as that effort was once he’d let Yuuri so far into his heart. When he was younger, there had been seemingly endless opportunities for casual sex with attractive men around stables and ranches, both in Russia and here. Eventually, however, he’d realized he wanted more from a relationship. There were a few he’d thought might work out long term, but the men had left, the prospect of a better life somewhere else having been too appealing. He’d been afraid he’d lose Yuuri the same way, and the conversation they’d had after they’d encountered his mother in the drug store hadn’t exactly put Victor at his ease. He’d been sure it was too soon to ask Yuuri what he wanted for his future, but had felt pushed into doing so at the time, and naturally Yuuri hadn’t thought it through yet.

But there was no denying the truth about his feelings for Yuuri now. And why should he anyway, when it felt so good? He was drunk on love and wanted to shout about it from the rooftops. And as a bonus, god their sex was fantastic. The way Yuuri had ordered him earlier to…well. It was a wonder he hadn’t incinerated on the spot.

“I’m a lucky man, my beauty,” he said to Luchik. “Lucky in lots of ways.” He smiled to himself and wondered if Yuuri would show him what he was doing with the lasso, or if he was trying to keep something secret. Well, Victor thought, he could be patient, and he’d find out for sure soon when they visited Fort McKinley.


	31. Chapter 31

“Aaaaand, ladies and gentlemen, give a round of applause to Miss Maudie Murphy, the amazing trick rider from Huntsville! Ain’t she a peach, ladies and gentlemen?” the emcée of the Frontier Days Rodeo announced through his bright red megaphone. He was standing in the middle of a large dusty outdoor corral that was surrounded by tiers of wooden-planked bleachers, which were occupied by a sizeable crowd, certainly more than had attended the Larkspur rodeo in the spring. Many of them were clearly military men from the fort, while others were farmers or ranchers, or townsfolk from here and further afield. Some had their families with them and were eating ice cream or popcorn, and drinking soda or beer, kicking back their heels on a rare day off. Mixed with the smells of the food were the more heady odors of cow and horse dung, wood baking in the sun, and the press of sweaty bodies, though the summer heat had begun to relent now that fall was on its way. There was a rumble of conversation from the crowd as they awaited the next performer.

As he stood near the gate through which Yuuri would eventually appear on Biscuit a few minutes before he was due in the ring, Victor had to admit that he enjoyed the carnival atmosphere – the anticipation of the acts, the theatricality, the thrill of performing. Only, that thrill would be Yuuri’s alone today, as it needed to be – Victor had been determined not to take the spotlight away from him. Unfortunately, Yuuri still wasn’t as confident as Victor was that he’d do well. When they’d made the half-day’s journey here this morning, he’d been tight-lipped and silent most of the way, pale and withdrawn, his expressions alternating between intense concentration and worry. Victor had wondered again whether it had been a wise move to encourage Yuuri to do this, but he still stood by his instinct. Yuuri had come to life like a plant nurtured by water and sunlight when Chris and Walt had watched him, and he could do it again here. It seemed criminal for him not to show off to the world the talent he possessed.

And yet, it had been hard to watch him suffer as they’d ridden here. Victor had never felt particularly anxious before a performance, but he knew it was common, and had at least had an idea before they’d left that it might be a problem for Yuuri, so he’d tried to prepare as best he could. When he’d left Yuuri in the bustling behind-stage area that was reserved for performers alone, he’d taken Cookie from the deep pocket in his duster coat and told Yuuri they’d both be cheering for him.

“Remember? You brought him to see me at the Larkspur rodeo.”

Yuuri stared. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“You won him, so he must be lucky.”

“You _are_ joking.”

“I’m going to tuck him under my arm, like this, so he can watch. See?”

Yuuri laughed, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told. Now I want you to go out there in the corral when it’s your turn and be unbelievable too.”

After another chuckle and a sigh, Yuuri said, “OK.” And Victor had left a pink-faced, bright-eyed Yuuri who had been wearing his first smile of the entire day.

He was due here in the gate area any minute now, with the act before his having begun – a cowboy who was performing standard lasso tricks from the back of his horse and who seemed to think that getting the animal to rear up on its hind legs constituted a spectacle. The woman before him had been better, having executed some gymnastics on the back of her own mount, but none of them would be able to hold a candle to Yuuri.

Victor smiled to himself and made sure Cookie was tucked prominently into the crook of his arm, then glanced around. What was keeping him? It wasn’t as if he had a costume to put on. Victor had suggested the possibility, envisioning countless sexy permutations, but Yuuri had shot the idea down, saying that it would be an expensive outlay for a single competition – and he wasn’t planning on riding into the corral at a gallop wielding swords, like someone else he could mention. Victor had conceded the point, though he was hoping to persuade Yuuri to change his mind in time for the next Larkspur rodeo in May. Wanting to see him in – and then out of – skin-tight black pants with a blowsy long-sleeved shirt open at the chest, for example, had absolutely nothing to do with it, of course.

He felt the first stirrings of unease as he looked around again and still saw no sign of Yuuri. It wasn’t like him to turn up late for anything. If he left to look for Yuuri and discovered he was fine, Victor anticipated being at the receiving end of a sharp word or two for being fussy or coddling. But…maybe Yuuri wasn’t feeling well? Maybe something had gone wrong…maybe he was having a panic attack. Victor hadn’t known him to react in such a strong way to anything other than a stagecoach – and they hadn’t spotted any on the way here – but then again, he hadn’t known Yuuri for that long, and it could be a possibility. Perhaps the anxiety before the performance had become too much, though the more lighthearted attitude Victor thought he’d left him with had seemed genuine.

Tucking Cookie back into the pocket of his duster, he retraced the route to the behind-stage area, which – there being no stage – was just a large open space underneath the bleachers with nooks and rooms of different sizes screened off. There were fewer performers milling around now, and the sounds of the cheering and clapping crowd were eerily muffled by the tiers of wooden planks that formed the upper wall and ceiling on the side facing the corral. The right-hand side was open to the elements, but the sun was on the other side of the arena, casting this area into deep shade. Victor’s heart gave a little leap as his sense that something was wrong continued to grow.

“Yuuri?” he called out, tentatively at first, then again in a louder voice. No answer. A cowboy walked past silently, leading his horse by the reins; then a pair of men dressed and made up as clowns. No one paid him any notice.

Swallowing, he trotted further around the ring, and thought he could make out some odd noises beneath the sounds of the crowd, like the bass notes in a song – guttural ones, along with loud shuffling. They were coming from a large space behind a series of makeshift wooden screens that were ostensibly there for the privacy of the performers, as rough and ready dressing rooms. With no clue as to what he might find, Victor hurried to the furthest screen and peered around the edge.

With a cry of surprise and alarm, he leaped into immediate action.

Yuuri was being assailed by two men dressed as cowboys. Trying to stay quick on his feet, he ducked the flying fist of one while aiming a kick at the other, which didn’t hit its mark as his target also dodged the attack. One of the men was spitting blood. A third was out cold on the ground. There were streaks of crimson under Yuuri’s nose, and he clutched momentarily at his elbow. He wore a hunted look, but there was determination in his eyes.

“Git that goddamn Jap,” snarled the man Yuuri had tried to kick. “Pin his arms behind him an’ I’ll give him what for, by god.” His words were slightly slurred.

Victor had darted forward before either of them had a chance to act, and the one who had been ordered to pin Yuuri’s arms found himself on the receiving end of a fist to the stomach that carried all of Victor’s body weight and power behind it. The man doubled over, clutching himself with both arms.

“Victor!” Yuuri cried in relief as the second man flew at him.

This could have been cleared up speedily with a gun, Victor thought – and he had brought his along on the journey here in case of trouble; but expecting none at the rodeo itself, he had left it packed in Luchik’s saddlebags, which were in the livery. Hoping one of them didn’t have a knife on him and decide to draw it, Victor thought it best to try to make quick work of the first man he’d hit so that he could help Yuuri. Apparently having recovered sufficiently, he now ran at Victor and hurled a fist in his direction. Balancing himself squarely, Victor reached out and grabbed the man’s forearm and propelled him in the direction of his own momentum. As he staggered, Victor kicked his backside hard enough to send him to the ground. Quick as a spider with an insect caught in its web, Victor was upon him, pulling him over so that he was lying face up, then putting the lights out with a swift, powerful punch.

Victor didn’t enjoy fights like this. He’d found himself embroiled in a few over the years for one reason or another, but tried to avoid them if he could. However, he also liked to be able to defend himself, and so had learned a thing or two. It had been surprisingly easy to take this fellow out; and that, along with the slurred speech, made him wonder if Yuuri’s attackers had been drinking.

A cry of pain in a voice he knew well had him wheeling around to see Yuuri on his back on the ground, receiving blows to his abdomen from the third man, who was the largest of the bunch. However, before Victor could get to him, Yuuri had managed to curl both legs up underneath his assailant and then spring them, sending the man flying backwards. Yuuri scrambled over to him, grabbed his shirt collar with one hand and poised his other in the air, ready to deliver a punch, when a man’s voice suddenly rang out loud and clear.

“What in Sam Hill’s goin’ on back here?”   

Lowering his fist, Yuuri gave his opponent a shove onto the ground and stood, wincing and staring at him. “These men attacked me,” he explained, his breaths coming in pants.

“And who are you, exactly?” Victor asked, standing up straight and dusting himself off. He looked like someone official, in a brown suit with a string tie and top hat, complete with a monocle over one eye. In fact, his outfit was so pompous-looking that he could have been a performer.

“I’m Francis O’Reilly, the manager of this rodeo,” he said in a voice that seemed to perfectly match his accoutrements. He was flanked by two other shorter men in suits who stood silently, taking in the scene. “And I have to tell you, I won’t put up with anyone causin’ an affray at my show. Now explain yourselves.”

“Why don’t you ask him,” Yuuri bit out, continuing to look at the one man who was still conscious. “I was supposed to go out there and perform, and these three bums came in here stinking of whiskey and calling me…and, um, looking for a fight. They came at me all at once.”

“Zeke, is that you?” one of the little suited men said, wrinkling his brow to get a good look.

“Course it’s me,” the man on the ground replied, rubbing his jaw.

“You ain’t been drinkin’, have you?”

“What the hell’s it to you, anyways?”

“Sir, these men are well-known troublemakers,” he said to the manager. “I wouldn’t be surprised if this young fellow is telling us the truth.”

“What you doin’ with a fuckin’ Jap in the show, is what I wanna know,” said the man addressed as Zeke. “Put him back on the fuckin’ railroad where he belongs. We were just tryin’ to do you a favor by getting’ rid of him.”

“That’s enough outa you,” the manager said. Elsewhere on the ground, the other two men who had been unconscious were slowly beginning to stir.

“Mr. O’Reilly, I think it might be a good idea to get these men under some kind of supervision before they cause more trouble,” Victor said. “And I need to have a private conversation with Yuuri here, if you don’t mind.”

“Shore. You do that.” O’Reilly turned to the suited men beside him. “Help me clean out the garbage right away, boys. Then go tell the sheriff what’s been goin’ on here.” With that, he began to drag one of the semiconscious assailants away, and his colleagues did the same.

Victor dashed over to Yuuri, who was rubbing his elbow again. “Are you all right, baby? Did they hurt you?” He clutched at Yuuri’s arm and scanned his face distractedly.

“It’s OK, Victor. I…I’ll be fine.”

“It _isn’t_ OK,” Victor insisted, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and beginning to dab at the blood under Yuuri’s nose, though Yuuri took it from him and carried on with the procedure himself. “They attacked you, all three of them, for no good reason.”

Yuuri held the handkerchief to his nose, avoiding Victor’s gaze. “I’m used to it.”

Victor frowned. “You mean this has happened before?” As Yuuri looked at him now with a raised eyebrow, he realized – yes it had, and he’d seen it too, the first time they’d met. “Shit,” he said softly. “What is wrong with people here?”

“Well it doesn’t matter.” Yuuri lowered the handkerchief. “I don’t think it’s bleeding anymore. Is the blood all gone?”

Victor nodded, stuffing the handkerchief back in his pocket. “We’d better get you someplace where you can rest up – or to a doctor. Do you think anything’s broken?”

“I told you, I’m fine. And don’t fuss.” As Yuuri gazed at him, his expression softened, and he put a hand on his cheek. “But thank you.”

“Well. Let’s go then.”

“Go where?”

“Away from here,” Victor said heatedly. “From this place where people will attack you just because…because…”

Yuuri lowered his hand and smiled sadly. “Because I’m Japanese?” He paused. “Don’t you see, Victor – that’s why I can’t let them get the best of me. I’m going out there to perform, if Mr. O’Reilly will let me. I think I must have missed my slot…”

Victor’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t be serious. You could have gotten hurt.”

“Well I’m sore in places, but that’s about all. And I haven’t lost any teeth. So why shouldn’t I?” As Victor struggled to think of something to say, he added, “Well?” He stole a quick kiss on Victor’s cheek.

“Yuuri Taylor,” Victor said after a thoughtful pause, his face breaking into a grin, “you’re amazing.”

***

Ten minutes later, Victor was standing in the same spot where he’d been waiting for Yuuri to come through the gate on Biscuit earlier. The other trick riders had finished performing, but as the judges hadn’t yet decided on a winner, Mr. O’Reilly had granted Yuuri’s request. It was almost as if the fight hadn’t happened. But Victor certainly felt different from when he’d last stood here. Gone were his lighthearted mood and concern for Yuuri’s anxiety. He was still trying to stuff down his impotent anger at the way Yuuri was treated by bigoted idiots here, though he knew that Yuuri was not the only individual who came in for such treatment, nor were the Japanese the only ones who were singled out. Somehow Russians tended to be spared, as were most Europeans, particularly if they were from the north; though Victor knew he himself was not completely immune either. And all of this was distracting him from the actual reason they were here. Yuuri deserved his full attention when he emerged.

No sooner had he thought this than Yuuri appeared on Biscuit, and an assistant opened the gate for him. He would be allowed straight through, as there was no one currently performing in the arena. Victor smiled up at him, and Yuuri grinned back, then guided Biscuit into the corral as the emcée announced him as the final competitor. Yuuri raised a hand to greet the crowd, and they clapped politely. Victor still questioned the wisdom of Yuuri doing this so soon after the fight, but it had clearly been important to him. Folding his arms across his chest, he took a deep breath and prayed that Yuuri would do well in spite of it all.

As they’d practiced, Yuuri slid off of Biscuit and led her through a few paces around the arena, waving to the audience and flashing them a smile. Then he began his program by vaulting onto his horse from behind, and got her going at a good speed while he picked up his bandanna, which he’d tossed onto the ground. This he did a couple more times, followed by disappearing under the saddle and climbing up the other side, his movements more fluid and assured than they had been when he’d performed the same tricks for Chris and Walt. He had the confident manner of a professional who’d done these things many times over and was enjoying them once again, smiling and flirting with the audience. Victor’s grin grew wider and wider until he was beaming. It had become strangely like watching himself perform, if it were possible. Had Yuuri really studied him that closely? And all that practicing had clearly paid off. Victor felt deeply moved. He wasn’t just proud; he was in awe of what Yuuri had achieved, and what he was achieving now after what had just happened.

As he watched, he saw Yuuri drape his lasso over his arm while he stood up on the back of his saddle. This was new – they hadn’t practiced anything in his program with rope tricks; though since Chris had seen him roping in the corral that day, Victor had suspected that Yuuri might be storing one or two surprises up his sleeve. After all, the roping was something he’d been doing for years.

He started out by spinning it in dramatic loops over his head while continuing to balance upright on the saddle, which the audience loved, if the cheering and clapping were any indication. The noises they’d been making had gradually been building throughout the performance, but perhaps they were especially impressed by this because it was something that was more familiar to them. Then Yuuri brought the looping lasso down to twirl it over himself, then fully down over Biscuit and back up. Victor’s eyes widened as he watched Yuuri perform the routines he’d been working on without the added complication of spinning a rope around himself, and he made it look like it was the simplest, most pleasurable thing in the world to do. It was certainly pleasurable to view, too, and Victor felt desire begin to coil up inside of him. He hadn’t expected to go from anxious anticipation for his protégé to this state of affairs; and though he willed himself to focus on the present moment, his thoughts began to stray to what they could do together in their room at the boarding house later that night.

Yuuri now made little jumps over the spinning lasso, and pirouetted underneath it, all the while balancing on the saddle while Biscuit cantered around the corral. He was a moving work of art, smooth and graceful. When he caught the rope and coiled it back in, then sat back down to hook it on his saddle, Victor expected him to finish, but it seemed that he had one more surprise in store. Leaping back up to stand near the front of the saddle this time, Yuuri leaned back as if he were on the balance beam, planted his hands on the back of the saddle – and then did a magnificent handstand, Biscuit never slowing down for a moment. Victor gasped with the rest of the crowd and felt overcome by emotion, tears pricking in his eyes. Why hadn’t Yuuri shown him he could do all these things? He’d come so much further than Victor had realized. Yuuri moved his legs into different poses, shifting his balance accordingly, hardly faltering, certainly nowhere near losing his balance, as fluid as a ballet dancer. Then finally he sprang from a full handstand into a flip, and landed securely behind Biscuit with his arms in the air. The crowd roared and stamped their feet on the bleachers as Yuuri waved to them, wearing a huge smile that said one thing to Victor: _I did great, right?_ His eyes were beautiful brown saucers.

Yuuri led Biscuit through the gate. Victor was there, waiting. He’d never wanted to kiss Yuuri so much in his life, but he knew he couldn’t, not here. So he did the next best thing – he ran up to him and gave him an enormous hug, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tight. “Yuuri, that was fantastic. You did so well. You can’t imagine how proud I am of you.” He had to speak up because the crowd was still cheering, while the emceé reminded them with his megaphone that they’d just seen Yuuri Taylor, a cowboy from Larkspur.

Yuuri pulled back to look at his face. “Victor, are you…crying?”

Was he? He hadn’t realized. Swiping a finger over each eye, he said with a crooked smile, “You’ve made me so happy, baby. They’re tears of joy.”

Yuuri gazed at him in wonder and delight, then hugged him even tighter. Victor cupped the back of his head with his hand. He didn’t dare do anything else, but oh, what a sweet moment it was regardless.

It came as no surprise to him – and shouldn’t have done for Yuuri – when he was awarded first prize. The judges had hardly needed any time to deliberate.

***

Ma Barker’s Boarding House in Fort McKinley was a humble affair, but staying there felt like a treat compared to day-to-day life at the ranch. Victor and Yuuri had a simple but satisfying meal of buffalo steaks, corn on the cob, mashed potatoes and gravy, and green beans. Their attempts at flirting – playing footsie under the table, and feeding each other or slipping a hand up a thigh when no one was looking – had to be hastily abandoned several times, though Victor didn’t begrudge it, because they were being visited by people who had been to the rodeo that afternoon and seen Yuuri’s performance. He received quite a few flattering compliments, which he accepted demurely, though after a while he whispered in Victor’s ear that he was beginning to think they’d never get any time alone.

That finally came later, when they went to their room. Victor had felt absurdly pleased about all the amenities they had access to, even if it was only for one night. A wash basin of their own. A mirror on the wall that wasn’t chipped or cracked. Blessed privacy – he was determined to take advantage of every minute. But best of all – “Yuuri, look, beds!” he’d exclaimed when they walked in. Yuuri had just laughed, though he appeared to be delighted himself when Victor pointed out that they had never actually slept together in the same bed before. Well, technically they weren’t going to now either, because these were two beds they’d have to push together. But the principle was the same.

Victor had brought some buttered popcorn back from the rodeo in a bag, and he suggested they help themselves to it along with some brandy. He apologized for it not exactly being the champagne and Belgian chocolates he said he’d like to share one day – which they still would – but Yuuri seemed to enjoy it as much as if it were anyway. The popcorn turned out to be fun to play with because it was small, crunchy, quick to eat, melted in your mouth, and somehow was the perfect shape and texture to slip between your lover’s lips. Victor had never thought of popcorn as sexy, but it was definitely an experience he was determined to repeat. With Yuuri. As many times as possible.

As was the sex they ended up having in the beds, which felt like luxurious accommodation compared to what they were used to. Victor would have been happy with any one of many different positions and activities; but as they were enjoying a rare moment of absolute privacy, he wanted firstly to do something that involved the complete removal of all their clothes, and secondly – if possible – something new for Yuuri that he might have been hesitant about in the past but perhaps would be willing to try here, with some gentle persuasion.

First, though, Victor made sure he spent plenty of time showing Yuuri that he was loved and appreciated. He kissed every place he could find where he was bruised from the fight, as well as from practicing in the corral at the ranch; he’d taken some bad hits near his stomach in particular, and his skin had broken out into blotches of purple. It was fun taking his time to find out where Yuuri was especially sensitive as well; something he really should have done by now, though time always seemed to be at a premium when there was a worry that someone would discover what they were doing. Well, not here, not now. Apart from the obvious – his soft, sensual mouth, and other more intimate areas – he was pleased to discover more erogenous zones on Yuuri’s wrists, the creases behind his knees, and the arches of his feet. In fact, Victor found out that he’d been teasing them just a little too much when Yuuri eventually yanked his foot out of Victor’s grip, grabbed him, and rolled him over so that he was on top of Victor, who looked at him through hooded eyelids.

“Well?” Victor whispered. “Are you going to take me this time?”

The fire that had glinted in Yuuri’s eyes died a bit, and he swallowed. “I, um…” He seemed uncertain what to say.

Victor was a little frustrated by Yuuri’s continual hesitation, though he respected his wishes absolutely. The frustration stemmed not from his desire to have Yuuri inside him – though that was real enough – but from the position of dominance that Yuuri often seemed to put him in by default. How could he continue to help Yuuri find his confidence?  

“Is that something you’d still like to do eventually, if not now?” Victor asked him softly, stroking his hair.

“Yes,” Yuuri breathed.

“OK,” Victor answered, keeping his voice low, though he wanted to shout out with joy. “You know, you have the most beautiful body, Yuuri. When you first came to the ranch and I saw you nude, it drove me crazy, and I had to go and make myself come in secret.”

Yuuri exhaled sharply.

“That’s what you do to me.” He smiled. “I’d love to see all of you now. If I lie down flat, will you ride me? Believe me, you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

The hesitation still showed in Yuuri’s eyes, but desire was quickly chasing it away. His pupils were wide and black. He nodded and reached for the bottle of oil Victor had placed on the bedside table, and Victor encouraged Yuuri to slick him up while he reached around to prepare him.

It always felt amazing to be inside Yuuri, but watching him gradually shake off his inhibitions and learn to take his pleasure from Victor’s body was incredibly sensual. He started with slow movements, his eyes closed, and Victor poured out praise and encouragement while running his hands over Yuuri’s chest, his arms, his legs, and gripping his hips. Eventually Yuuri began to experiment with shifting the angle of penetration and changing his rhythm – and he could move in the most lascivious ways. It was all Victor could do to stop himself from tipping over the edge and cutting their encounter short. The vision of Yuuri astride him, fucking himself on his cock while his own bobbed heavy and full in front of him, was surely the sexiest thing Victor had ever seen. When he reached out to take Yuuri in hand, hoping to bring them together into bliss, Yuuri cried out, and Victor begged him as sweetly as he could to open his eyes, which he did. Neither of them lasted long after that. Victor came hard; he was aware of sounds coming out of his throat, and hearing them from Yuuri, but he had no idea what they were, or even where he was just now.

When his consciousness finally came back down to earth, and they’d cleaned up and were holding each other close under the soft, warm sheets, Victor tried to give Yuuri some idea of what it had been like watching his performance in the rodeo that afternoon. “All those woderful things you did at the end – you never let me see them when you were practicing.”

Yuuri ran his fingers down Victor’s cheek. “I wanted to surprise you. You said you like surprises.”

“I do, _detka_. But I’m your coach too. I hope you’ll let me know if you need help with anything.”

Yuuri gave him a mischievous look. “I was doing pretty OK on my own. I watched you a lot. That’s the easiest way for me to learn anything.”

“I’m glad I’m such a good role model, then.” He kissed Yuuri’s forehead and dropped his voice to a more serious note. “You know, I was getting worried when you didn’t show up for your performance and I couldn’t find you. Then there you were, fending off those three men, with one of them already on the ground. I daresay you could have finished off the other two without any help from me.”

Yuuri huffed a laugh. “I’m not so sure about that. Thanks for coming to my rescue.”

“What else would I have done?” Victor asked, playfully affronted. “And then you went and gave an amazing show as if nothing had happened.”

“Well, I figured the best revenge would be to go out there and win.” He chuckled. “Easy. No pressure.”

“Yuuri, you were by far the most talented performer out there, hands down.”

“I’ve been learning from the best,” Yuuri muttered, blushing. “But it didn’t feel right, you not taking part in the rodeo yourself.” He paused. “I’ve seen how much you love it.”

Victor smiled softly. “I’d be honored to compete against you, Yuuri. I really believe you’d give me the first challenge I’ve ever had in this country.”

A pair of chocolate-brown eyes flicked up at him, shining. “About that…I have an idea.”

***

Victor loved the rare nights when he and Yuuri could sleep together until dawn without having to worry about getting up early to do ranch chores or making sure their absence from the bunkhouse was temporary so they wouldn’t be missed, at least not too often. He could happily get used to the warmth of Yuuri’s presence next to him every night, he thought. And it seemed ridiculous that sharing a bed was such a luxury, when most of the population took it for granted. It made him idly wonder again about what their future might hold.

As he watched the sleeping form next to him, it stirred, and Yuuri’s eyes fluttered open. “Good morning, Vitya,” he said with a little smile.

Yes, he could definitely get used to this. “Good morning, my love. Did you sleep well?”

Yuuri blinked blearily. He was not a morning person. “I think so. What time is it?”

“Does it matter, for once?” Victor laughed.

“Hm. Sleep, then.”

Not a bit of it – not when they still had time in bed together like this. Victor leaned over and mouthed kisses into Yuuri’s mussed-up hair. “I wonder what I can do to persuade you to stay awake.”

Yuuri closed his eyes, the smile still hovering on his face. “Go on, then.” He shifted slightly and winced, a hand darting under the sheets to his stomach.

“Sore from what those idiots did to you yesterday?” Victor whispered.

“Could be worse, I guess.”

“I’ll kiss all your bruises again.”

Yuuri chuckled. “You did a good job already.”

“Then I’ll kiss your lips.” Victor tilted forward, but Yuuri turned his head away just enough that Victor missed and kissed his cheek.

“Morning breath,” he said. “And morning hair. Morning everything.”

Did he really think that mattered? _Oh, Yuuri._ Victor touched his cheek with the tips of his fingers and guided his head back to face him, then looked into his eyes and came in again for a kiss, which this time was accepted and reciprocated. Good – that had been an easy message to get across, then. In fact, Yuuri’s protest appeared to have been a rather weak one, because there was a hunger in his kiss that he didn’t try to conceal as he moved his body closer so that they were lying against each other, chest to chest. Both of them were hard. Victor was beginning to think it was never going to be possible to get enough of this enticing man.

Remembering Yuuri’s enthusiastic reply to his question the previous night about wanting to fuck him senseless sometime – well, he’d phrased it rather more delicately than that – Victor wondered what else he might persuade Yuuri to do to build up to it in steps. Last night had been an excellent start, he decided, as Yuuri had been more or less in control even though he was still the one being penetrated. No more of that for now, though, especially since they’d be on horseback for several hours today, and Victor could never quite erase the guilt he felt when he’d been the cause of Yuuri getting saddle sore. Ah – what if…

“Do you mind if I turn around?” he said. “I want to feel you against me.”

“OK,” Yuuri said simply, looking unsure of what exactly Victor meant but content to wait and find out.

Victor maneuvered himself so that they were spooning, with Yuuri’s chest now at his back. “Wrap your arms around me, baby. Get as close as you can.” Yuuri complied, and Victor felt a lingering kiss on his shoulder.

“This is nice,” Yuuri sighed against him. As if he needed any more evidence that Yuuri liked it, Victor felt him press his cock up against his ass. He moaned, covering Yuuri’s hands on his chest with his own. He considered asking Yuuri to decide what to do next, but then thought what he might need right now instead was some firmer direction. “Do you remember that time in the stable when we were lying like this in the hay?” he said. “And what we did?”

Yuuri murmured in the affirmative, kissing and licking at the hollow of Victor’s neck. God, that was sexy. He let out a breath and tried to put some more words together.

“How about doing it now?”

There was a pause, then: “In reverse.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re asking me to fuck your thighs.”

“Only if you want to.”

“Hmm.” Victor felt Yuuri’s lips brush up his neck, and shuddered. “I guess I could give it a try…if that’s what _you_ want,” he said in a sultry voice.

Victor’s heart fluttered and his cock twitched. Yuuri was teasing him gently now. Perhaps he was more confident than he’d given him credit for. “ _Please_ ,” he said, wondering if Yuuri was actually hoping to hear him beg.

“OK. Hand me the oil.”

Soon Yuuri was slicked up, and lay back down against Victor, but didn’t move. There was a pause. “It’s hard to believe you want me to do this,” he said, all hint of teasing gone.

This wasn’t what Victor was expecting to hear. He lifted Yuuri’s hand to his mouth and kissed his fingers. “Just the thought of it’s got me rock hard.”

“But…you always seem to be in control. I…”

Sultry Yuuri had disappeared, but at least Victor thought he had an idea now of what had been bothering him. He moved onto his back so that he could look at him. “I’m not in control all the time, Yuuri. You’d realize that if you thought about it for a moment.” He dug into painful memories to prove the point. “At the shepherd’s hut, for instance. That wasn’t so long ago. And even yesterday – I wasn’t there when those men came at you.” As Yuuri stared at him, he wondered what more he could add. He thought back to the beginning of their relationship. “Yuuri…I know all those fancy tricks I can do must be impressive. And I know I’ve been teaching you all kinds of things, and maybe in your eyes that puts me in a position of power. But you’ve been teaching me things, too.” He gave Yuuri’s hand, which he was still holding, a caress. “Your determination, your spirit, your courage – they all inspire me. The way you taught yourself how to do the trick riding without me, and all the progress you’ve made since. How you quit smoking. The way you fight instead of letting things get on top of you. The love you give me…it means so much.” He felt tears well up in his eyes. This wasn’t exactly what he thought he’d be doing right now, but to hell with that – it was important.

“Victor,” Yuuri whispered, his eyes wide. Then he leaned over and gave him a long, soft, affectionate kiss. Though there was nothing very sensual about it, it was full of feeling, and to Victor it was like the first rain after a drought. Nothing could have said more clearly or simply, _I love you_. For a moment it was as if he’d been carried away on the wings of birds.

“I’m only a guy, like everybody else,” he said quietly, running his fingers down Yuuri’s cheek. “I make mistakes, I screw up. I don’t always know what’s what. I forget things. I’m not anybody’s hero.”

“You’re mine,” Yuuri whispered. “But…I think I get what you’re saying. You don’t want me to put you on a pedestal.”

“That’s right,” he replied, relieved that Yuuri understood.

“I already did – I’d have to take you off of it.” Yuuri smiled against his cheek. “That won’t be easy. And I can’t pretend I won’t be in awe of you sometimes, because the things you can do are amazing, Victor. _You’re_ amazing.” He chuckled. “But OK, you’re not a god. I can deal with that.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Victor said with a grin. “So if I’d like things to be a little more…equal between us, you’d be OK with that too? I know you could handle it. I trust you.”

Yuuri gave a small sigh. “I wish _I_ trusted me. Not to screw up, I mean.”

“Yuuri.” Victor looked at him sharply. “Just think about what you achieved yesterday. It was wonderful to watch you. You were _beautiful_.” His features softened again. “Now. I believe I made a request, which you said you were going to grant. How about it, hm?”

“Oh…” Yuuri looked taken aback.

“Or are we seriously going to waste the last few minutes we have in these fantastic beds? I can hear the seconds ticking away before Ma Barker throws us out of here.” This at least elicited a giggle. “Come here, baby.”          

***

Victor took in a lungful of the dry, fresh Wyoming air as Luchik carried him at a brisk walk. They were traveling back to Larkspur on the first day of fall, and a crispness had settled in to replace the summer heat, though that was no guarantee there wouldn’t still be warm days ahead. In fact he hoped there would be, because he wasn’t looking forward to the colder weather, and eventually snow, complicating things for himself and Yuuri still further at the ranch when they wanted some privacy. That was going to be difficult, and frustrating.

But why dampen what had been such a memorable weekend with gloomy thoughts? He looked over at Yuuri, who was sitting with a leisurely posture on Biscuit, and flashed him a smile, which he returned. He felt so full of warm feelings – love, satisfaction, pride in what Yuuri had done – that he was surprised he wasn’t glowing with them. The sky had never been so blue, the grass never so green, the world never such a wonderful place to be in, despite its faults. Maybe those were there so that its treasures could be appreciated all the more.

One of them was there beside him. They’d ended up having an idyllic morning together. Once they’d rekindled the desire between them after their talk, Yuuri had done just what Victor asked, with no holding back. It sent a frisson through him just thinking about it now – the erotic noises Yuuri had mouthed against his shoulder; the slick slide of his cock against the firm muscles of Victor’s thighs; those incredible things he did with his hips. And yet he’d had enough presence of mind to wrap a hand around Victor and stroke him, though it had faltered toward the end along with his concentration, and Victor had been glad to help him with his own hand, so that he spilled over them both. Yuuri had followed soon after, and they’d panted and clung to each other until Victor really did begin to wonder if someone was going to come knocking at their door, telling them it was time to leave.

They’d almost – _almost_ – been late for breakfast, which would have been tragic, since Ma Barker’s had a lot more variety to offer in that sense than the cook shack at the ranch. They’d decided to indulge themselves in a rare meal of pancakes and sausages, and Victor had been amused to watch Yuuri absolutely slather his pancakes with butter and then drown everything on his plate in maple syrup. Here, indeed, was someone who clearly knew how to enjoy the good things in life. Victor’s own vices that morning had been a side bowl of fried spiced apples and a rich, creamy coffee so thick he could almost stand a spoon in it. It had certainly started them off well for their journey, and they wouldn’t need much more to eat until dinnertime.

“Yuuri,” he called, “did you remember to pack Cookie? I left him on the bedside table. Or is it a her? I never asked.”

“Yes,” Yuuri answered, staring ahead. “And I never thought about it, but let’s call it a him.”

“He didn’t get to see your performance after all. I’ll have to make sure he sees the next one.”

Yuuri just smiled and shook his head.

“Hey, where’s your blue ribbon – the one they pinned on you after you won?”

“Seriously, Victor?” Yuuri said, now giving him a sideways glance. “I’m not traveling with that stuck onto me.”

“Why not?”

Yuuri raised an eyebrow.

“Fine – just make sure you put it back on when we get to the Circle C.”

“I am _not_ ,” Yuuri laughed.

“Then how will everyone know you won a competition at a major rodeo?”

“Do they need to?”

“Of course. I suppose I’ll just have to tell them myself.”

“OK,” Yuuri said, still smiling indulgently. “You do that.”    


	32. Chapter 32

Yuuri sipped from his tin mug and leaned against the weatherbeaten wooden fence, gazing out over the field into the distance. The sun was dipping in the west toward the purple shadow of the mountains to his left, and ahead of him a few cattle grazed on the parched grass. A chill had begun to sink into the evening air, but Yuuri was warm enough in his flannel shirt and vest. A fiddle played hand-clapping, foot-stomping tunes in the barn behind him.

Victor had wheedled until Yuuri had agreed to come here to the annual hoedown with him. Memories from last year – or rather, the lack of them – still hung heavily over him, and he didn’t enjoy big social gatherings like this any more than he ever had, though he figured he might be able to make up for it if he did some dancing with Victor while staying sober enough to remember it. Aware of what it might have looked like to people last year, many of whom had keen memories for seemingly trivial events long afterward, he thought it would be prudent to dance with a few other people first – men or women, it didn’t matter – so that by the time he picked the partner he actually wanted, hopefully no one would bat an eyelid. People seemed to accept that it was natural the two of them would be close, with one of them being officially apprenticed to the other, but Yuuri knew that excuse would only go so far before they kindled unwanted speculation.

Well, that was for later, anyway. He hadn’t done any dancing yet. The main feature of the evening so far had been the predictably wonderful array of home-cooked foods on offer, of which Yuuri had partaken until he was pleasantly full and the tingle of his sweet tooth satisfied for now. There was also a good selection of beers and whiskeys inside the barn, but instead of making a beeline for the strongest this time, he’d chosen a light and malty beer and then snuck outside for a breath of air and a break from the milling crowd. Victor, who enjoyed being more of a social butterfly, seemed to be content for the moment to catch up on events and talk horses with men from other nearby ranches, and Yuuri had left him to it.

“Hi, Yuuri. Haven’t seen you in a while. Where’ve you been?”

Greta, the blacksmith’s daughter, had come to stand against the fence next to him. Her blonde hair hung in two long neat braids, and she wore a sky-blue dress that was cut just low enough over the chest and above the knee to show off her figure without scandalizing the older ladies too much. She really was very pretty – which made Yuuri wonder why she was bothering with him, since she no doubt had plenty of other men to choose from.

“Hi. Um, well I’ve been working at another ranch, so I haven’t been around as much,” he replied, though of course that wasn’t true. He had probably visited the blacksmith more frequently with Victor than he had by himself when he was at the Rafter T, but he’d tried to avoid Greta ever since their embarrassing encounter in the barn, and it had somehow turned into an unconscious habit.

“I’m an apprentice.”

She raised an eyebrow and leaned with both of her elbows on the fence, which framed the scoop of her white chest. “At your age? Why?”

Yuuri felt a little rankled by her questions, since they barely knew each other; but there was no call to be rude, and no harm in chatting, he supposed. “Victor Nikiforov, the master horseman there, has been teaching me what he knows. Have you seen him ride?”

“You mean the Russian guy you’ve come to Dad’s place with sometimes? Yeah, I’ve seen him before in the rodeo.” She smiled. “Is he teaching you that fancy stuff he does?”

Yuuri nodded, his enthusiasm for the topic bubbling up inside of him. “I’ve got a special saddle and everything. Though I doubt I’ll ever be as good at it as he is. He practiced for years in Russia before he came here.”

“Wow.” Greta looked genuinely impressed. Then she peered at him slyly with her blue-grey eyes. “Maybe you can show me sometime what you can do, Yuuri. I’d love to see.”

He looked down and sipped his beer. “Go to the Larkspur rodeo next May, then. Victor and I are planning something special.”

“Oh yeah?” She continued to look at him, but he didn’t offer any extra information. “Well, then, I guess I’ll go back to the barn for a while. You wanna dance later?”

Oh god. How to be nice without encouraging her? “Sure, if I’m still here. I’ve got a few things to do at the ranch.”

“OK. See you, Yuuri.”

He let out a long breath as she disappeared into the barn. He wasn’t used to talking to women, apart from his mother, and those conversations often didn’t go well. And of course since he’d met Victor, he hadn’t had any romantic interest in anybody else. Though keeping the conversation as terse and boring as possible with people like Greta didn’t feel natural either – and yet he didn’t want to give her any reason to think he might be interested in her in _that way_. Why did these things have to be so complicated? He leaned on the fence again and sipped more of his beer.

“Hey, Yuuri – you came! Who twisted your arm, eh? I thought you didn’t like get-togethers like this.” It was Phichit, who had taken the place against the fence occupied by Greta a moment ago.

“Hi – how have you been?”

“I’m fine. What about you?” Phichit’s voice dropped. “I haven’t seen you in ages. Are you OK?”

“Yeah. I’ve just been busy, I guess.”

“But it’s been _months._ We haven’t met up since the rodeo, have we? What have you been doing all this time?”

Yuuri detected a sharp edge to his voice that he’d never heard before. Phichit was obviously hurt that he hadn’t been keeping in touch. “It’s, ah…complicated.” As his friend looked at him expectantly, he reminded himself that this had been his closest confidante. He ought to tell him about Victor. “Phichit – ”

“Yuuuuri, _here_ you are!” He recognized the playful, affectionate voice and briefly rested his forehead on the fence. It sounded like Victor had enjoyed a few drinks. He’d deliberately come out here to have a quiet moment to himself, and somehow had attracted more attention than he had inside the crowded barn. But Victor was never an unwelcome presence, nor was Phichit.

Yuuri stood up straight and watched Victor approach, a glass of some red-colored liquid in his hand and – Yuuri’s glasses case in the other.

“This dropped out of your pocket in the barn,” Victor said, handing him the old beat-up piece of leather. “You should get a new case, I think, _zolotse_. This one is falling apart.”

“Shit. Thanks.” He took the case from Victor, pulled his glasses out and inspected them. “Looks like they might have been stepped on, but I should be able to fix them later. It’s just the frame that’s been bent out of shape.” He slipped the case back into his vest pocket.

“Phichit!” Victor exclaimed. “How are you?”

“Hi, Victor. Just fine. I hope you’ve been taking good care of Yuuri at the Circle C.”

This elicited a quiet snicker from both Victor and Yuuri. “He’s been the _best_ student,” Victor said more seriously. “Did he tell you he won a rodeo contest a few weeks ago?”

Phichit turned to Yuuri with surprise on his face. “Really?”

“Really,” Yuuri said with a small smile.

“You? I mean…not that I don’t think you could. But you never liked performing much. Someone would have to really talk you into showing off your rope tricks before.”

Yuuri shrugged, still smiling. “I’ve had good teaching from a couple of people. I guess I’ve found my confidence.”

“Wow. That’s…wow. You know, we really ought to do some catching up. Why don’t – ”

Someone called Victor’s name. He finished his drink with a gulp and then closed the gap between himself and Yuuri. “I’d better go. Come back in and dance with me later, hm? I’ll be waiting.” He closed his eyes, placed a soft kiss on Yuuri’s cheek, and then walked back into the barn.

Of course Victor would assume that he’d told Phichit about the two of them, Yuuri thought – which was what he’d been about to do. He hadn’t wanted him to find out like this. The astonished look on his face was almost comical.

“Yuuri…you and _Victor_? Did I just see that?”

“Yeah. Me and Victor,” he said quietly.

“I mean, I thought something might be up when that bandanna thing happened at the rodeo, but…holy _shit_.”

Lost for words, Yuuri finished the rest of his beer, avoiding eye contact.

“Look, I don’t want to pry. OK, well maybe I do, but only because I’m your friend, Yuuri.” His tone had become urgent. “So…is this just some physical thing between you two – you know, to relieve tension or scratch an itch or something? I know it’s not unheard of in places like this where there’s lots of guys around, and hardly any women – ”

Yuuri finally looked at him directly. “I love him, Phichit.”

After a pause, he repeated, “Holy _shit_.”

“Stop saying that,” Yuuri said, feeling a stab of annoyance as he turned to lean on the fence.

Phichit took up a similar position next to him. He sounded shaken. Yuuri could almost feel the nervous energy transferring itself to him, and for the first time he found himself staring clearly into the breach between the insular world that he and Victor inhabited on the ranch and the rest of mainstream society that didn’t, and probably never would, respect – let alone understand – the love they shared. A shudder of fear ran through him. This wasn’t what he had expected from a conversation with Phichit, though he couldn’t blame his friend for echoing the same shock that most anyone else would express, and perhaps in harsher terms too.

“Look,” Phichit said after a silence between them, “I’m glad you’ve found someone, honestly. But…a _man_? I mean, how far have you thought this out?”

“What do you mean, thought it out?” The feeling of annoyance was growing. “You don’t _think it out_ when you fall in love with someone. It just happens.”

“Well maybe, but you can decide what you’re going to do from there, can’t you? Have you talked to each other about that?”

“What do you mean?” Yuuri asked again.

“I _mean_...well, there’s no easy way to say this, but you do realize how hard this is going to make things for you if you carry on with it, don’t you? God, Yuuri, it would change everything you ever told me you thought you were going to do with your life. You’d never get married or have any kids. And what about inheriting the ranch? What if your dad found out? What if _anyone else_ did? The things I’ve heard some people say about two men being together like that…” The look he was giving Yuuri was stern, his dark eyes like flint. Yuuri had never seen him like this before. “You think it’s hard being Japanese here? That’s nothing compared to what you’ll get if the two of you are caught. And you’re telling me that’s what you want – for the rest of your life? Or is it?”

A wave of emotions swirled within Yuuri, and he was too taken up in them to be able to pick them apart and tell one from the other. He looked at his hands folded on the fence. “I haven’t thought that far ahead, so no we haven’t talked about it. We’ve only been, um, together as we are for a few months. And not everyone’s as hostile as you think.”

Phichit gave him a searching look. “So who else knows?”

“Hardly anyone. But we’re not the only male couple on the ranches.” He was not going to betray Chris and Zach’s confidence.

There was a pause, and then Phichit said, “Yuuri, I’m sorry about this, but I really need to ask – have you always been attracted to guys?”

“I honestly don’t know.” Then he suddenly understood the import of Phichit’s words and hastily added, “I was never ogling you in the river or anything, if that’s what you mean. Not that you aren’t…but it wasn’t like…oh, hell.”

Phichit shook his head. “I don’t know what else to say. Just…wow. Do you really think he’s worth everything you could be losing and risking? How…how serious _are_ the two of you?”

Yuuri looked at him earnestly. “Have you ever been in love, Phichit? I mean, like, really head over heels for somebody?”

He thought for a moment. “No…I guess not. Not like that. If I was, I suppose I’d be married by now.”

“Then I don’t know how to explain it. He’s amazing. He’s wonderful. He’s _everything._ I want to stay with him somehow…I’m just not sure yet how it’s all going to work out. Not that I’m saying you’re wrong about all the problems we could be facing, but…well for now I’m happy, and I guess I’ve just got to hope that as time goes on, things will fall into place.”

“That’s a big thing to hope, if you ask me.” Phichit sighed. “But look – I really hope it does work out for you. Honestly, I do. I wasn’t trying to make you feel down. It’s just a big surprise, you know? A lot seems to have changed since the last time I saw you.”

“Yeah, I guess it has.”

“So why don’t we get together once in a while?” he said more gently. “How come you haven’t been to the Rafter T all this time?”

“I, um…would rather not run into my parents,” Yuuri muttered.

“They wouldn’t have to know if you came to the bunkhouse.”

“One of the men would tell them, and then they’d try to make me feel guilty for not visiting them too.”

“Would it be so bad to visit them now and then?”

Yuuri set his mouth in a line but didn’t reply.

“OK, well, what about meeting up in town sometime for a drink?”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.”

“We’ll have to arrange it then. Look, it’s getting dark, and I’m gonna go back into the barn. See you there in a while?” Yuuri nodded, and Phichit gave his back a pat and left.

There was a lot that Phichit didn’t understand, about his relationship with Victor as well as with his parents, but maybe it was time someone forced him to stare the reality of his situation in the face, even if it scared him. He wished that loving Victor could somehow make everything turn out all right, but the society they lived in with its crazy rules and expectations wasn’t going to go away; and it was also true that he’d have to give certain things up regardless of which decisions he made. Victor’s words that day in town when they had the gelato echoed in his head: _What is it that_ you _want?_

“I want _you_ , Victor,” he whispered into the night air. “That’s all I know right now. But it’s something, isn’t it?”


	33. Chapter 33

Yuuri met Phichit for drinks at the Wagon Wheel a few nights later, though there seemed to be little left to say after their conversation at the hoedown. It felt like a distance had opened up between them, even if there was no awkwardness as such. Maybe, Yuuri thought, he’d been remiss in not visiting the Rafter T more regularly; it felt as if Phichit was finding it hard to take in everything that had changed.

But Yuuri _liked_ staying away from the ranch – for the first time in his life, he had escaped the supervision of people who thought they knew what was best for him, and judged him and always seemed to find him wanting. At the Circle C he’d been free to discover who he actually was, instead of trying to please everybody else. And he was getting to like that person, surprisingly enough. It occurred to him that this time last year, he had been spending almost all of his time in his room, drinking and brooding and feeling miserable. And yet he would hardly recognize that person now.

He didn’t feel able to explain it all to Phichit, so he simply listened to his friend tell him news of his family and their business in town and who was doing what at the ranch, and enjoyed his company and a few beers, then parted ways for the night. Even though it was early October, they were having a spell of warm weather, most likely the final one of the year, and he relaxed in the evening breeze as Biscuit took him back to the Circle C. When he returned, he found Victor reclining on his bunk, waiting for him.

“Ready to break a sweat, then?” Yuuri asked him with a smile. They’d agreed to go to the stable that night and work out on the gymnastics apparatus. And of course there would be the opportunity for some privacy as well.

“Sure, in a minute. I just wanted to ask you…well, since tomorrow is Saturday night, would you like to go on a date?” He spoke in a quiet voice that wouldn’t carry to the other men in the bunkhouse, who were unlikely to hear anyway, as a loud game of cards was taking place in the middle of the room.

Yuuri stopped and looked at him, intrigued. “A date? That sounds formal.”

“It’s not meant to be,” Victor laughed. “I thought it would be fun to take you somewhere special, just the two of us. What do you say?”

“Where?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Oh?” When no more information was forthcoming, he smiled. “OK. I can’t wait to find out what this is all about.”

“Nothing fancy. But I think you’ll like it.” 

***

The warm weather held the next day, and in the evening Victor packed his bedroll on Luchik and they made their way into the rangeland near the Gypsum River that was dotted with copses of trees and small woods leading on into the foothills. The bedroll meant an interesting night ahead, Yuuri was pleased to see. Had Victor intended another camping trip? Usually they discussed these things together beforehand, but he seemed to want to be secretive this time. They didn’t have a tent with them, which they unfailingly brought on their nights out in case the weather turned bad, though they’d been lucky not to need it so far. All of the preparation and hauling of kit was one reason why they didn’t sleep away from the bunkhouse as often as Yuuri would have liked.

“We’ll be there soon,” Victor said. They’d dismounted and were leading their horses along a shallow tributary stream that gurgled next to them as it flowed over its rocky bed. The last rays of sunshine of the day streamed golden through the leaves above.

“OK, so…my guess is we’re not going anywhere in town.”

“No.”

“There’s a witch who lives in the deep, dark forest, and we’re going to ask her for a potion.”

Victor laughed. “You have quite an imagination. Anyway, what sort of potion could you want?”

Yuuri thought for a moment. “A potion of invisibility. Two of them. Just imagine what we could do.”

“Yuuri, you’re so funny sometimes,” Victor said, his eyes dancing with amusement. “But I’d have to refuse, because _I’d_ want to see you.”

“I’d want to see you too.” He twisted his mouth in a grin. “This is a ridiculous conversation.”

“I won’t argue with that. And we’re here now. Look.”

There was a parting in the trees in front of them, and in the clearing Yuuri saw a frothy white waterfall gushing over a cliff maybe fifteen feet above. It was surrounded by spume that glinted in the fading sunlight, and made a constant soft roar that Yuuri found soothing. It was certainly a beautiful place, but he didn’t see anything remarkable about it, other than that it would be pleasant to stop here and relax. Perhaps that was the intention.

“There’s more to this place than meets the eye,” Victor said with a mischievous grin as he staked out Luchik and removed his saddlebags. Yuuri did the same with Biscuit.

“Oh? I don’t see anything else here.”

“Look over at the waterfall – there’s a gap between it and the rock. You can’t see it very well from here because it’s behind the spray. Come on – you won’t get too wet.” He grabbed his bedroll and went in with all of his kit.

Yuuri followed him through the ethereal curtain of mist. They entered what sounded like a sizeable chamber that echoed to the sound of their boot heels, though Yuuri’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim light. Victor had placed a large lantern on a rocky ledge and lit it; and as the flame blazed up on the wick, its yellow glow spilled onto smooth gray stone walls and a dark soil floor that was soft and dry, except for where it caught the spume of the waterfall. Lining the cracks of the walls, and creeping into crannies and onto ledges, were lush patches of emerald-green moss interspersed with feathery fronds of fern. Intermittent crystalline patches in the stone glittered in the soft lantern light.

He’d been wrong about the witch’s house, Yuuri decided as he looked around in awe. This was Aladdin’s cave. Or a fairy world they’d inadvertently entered by bypassing the natural barrier of the waterfall; where time flowed at a different rate, and colors and lights and sounds were amplified. Yuuri had loved hearing such stories at school and from ladies who helped look after him when he was young, one of whom had been an Irish woman whose passion was fairy tales and folklore of all kinds. He couldn’t remember her name – Sharon? Shannon? – but he was sure she would have felt like a child in a candy store here.

“Victor this…this is incredible,” Yuuri whispered, his eyes continuing to scan his surroundings.

“Ah yes, it’s still here. I thought so.” Victor went across to another ledge where a second, slightly rusty black lantern stood. He picked it up, twisted the cap off the bottom, and sloshed it around. “Still a good amount of oil in it too. I thought this must have been where I left it.” He took a match and lit it, and the grotto was soon as bright as if it had been illuminated by a campfire, the long shadows chased to the corners.

“I guess you’ve been coming here a while?” Yuuri asked him.

“I did some exploring when I arrived at the ranch. Followed the river and streams around a bit when I had the time. They’re the prettiest places here, I think, unless you go into the mountains. Not so dry, and lots of trees. I happened to notice the gap by the waterfall, and found this. The perfect place to get some privacy, don’t you agree?”

Yuuri stood with his arms folded across his chest and watched Victor pull some wooden boxes that he hadn’t noticed out from a corner. He set them in the middle of the grotto so that they formed a table and two chairs. Then he took the bedroll and laid it out near the back wall. Yuuri couldn’t help but observe that he seemed very much at home here, and thought again of the other men he must have been with, like a line of vaguely threatening gray ghosts leading back in time. _This is silly,_ he told himself. _It’s actually normal for people to have exes at our age – I’m an exception, not the rule. Those guys he was with helped make him who he is now._

This was what his mind told him, though it didn’t stop his stomach from doing a flip, especially considering what he’d been planning to offer to do with Victor the next time they had a good long spell of privacy, which hadn’t happened since they’d stayed at the boarding house in Fort McKinley. When he’d been more assertive before, like the time he’d gone down on Victor in the stable, it had felt like a game – a challenge to himself, or a persona he’d donned like a mask. Take the mask off, and nothing was left but his real, vulnerable self. Could that self really stand on an equal footing with Victor? And yet he had given his permission for it; had told Yuuri he _wanted_ it. And the evidence of Victor’s own reactions during sex was plain; there was truth behind his words, as if Yuuri could ever really doubt it.      

“Yuuri?” Victor said, looking concerned.

“Sorry. Just thinking.”

“Well. Come and have a seat while I get some things out of my bag.”

Yuuri obliged and watched curiously as Victor pulled his saddlebag over, sat down across from him with the crate-table between them, and drew out a loaf of bread, a small wooden pot with a lid, a knife, a hand-sized slab of something wrapped in paper, and a bottle of red wine with two tin cups. “Bordeaux, to go with a French meal,” Victor said with a smile. “Would you like some?”

“I…I didn’t realize we were going to be doing all this. You’ve already treated me, more than once. You should’ve let me pay – ”

“It’s a treat for me as well as you. I don’t think I’ve eaten like this since I was in Russia. But if you insist,” he added, opening the wooden pot to reveal pale yellow butter inside, “you’re welcome to come up with the next date idea. How’s that?”

“You’re on.” Yuuri had no idea what he would do, but he was sure he could come up with something, given time. He might end up having quite a lot of it, he realized, because if he chose to do something outdoors, they might have to wait for the cold weather to pass first.

Victor poured them both some wine, and invited Yuuri to help himself to food. “Where are my manners?” Victor mumbled, pulling a couple of tin plates out of his bag and putting them on the table. “ _Le fromage du jour._ ” He unwrapped the little paper parcel, and there was a distinctive aroma of hard aged cheese. “Just cheddar – not French, I’m afraid, but it’s still nice; I tried some in the deli in town today.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri said, taking some of everything and then sipping his wine, which was smooth and rich and heady. “I’m curious…you speak French, you like French food. Is – was – someone in your family French, then?”

Victor shook his head as he finished a bite of cheese. “No. But France and Russia have had a shared history for a couple of hundred years. Everything French is _à la mode_ – fashionable, at least with the upper classes.” He sipped some wine. “My family had a few pretensions. So did my school.”

A thought popped into Yuuri’s head. “Have you ever been to Paris?”

“No. Why, have you?”

Yuuri laughed. “I’ve never even been out of the country, as far as I know, unless you count the possibility that I was born in Japan. I don’t know, I just…thought it might be a nice place to visit.”

“Maybe we could go sometime.”

“Maybe.” Yuuri smiled wistfully.

They finished their meal in comfortable silence, and Victor divided the remaining contents of the wine between them. Yuuri took a drink, then looked at him. “Victor, how come you haven’t brought me here before now? This place is perfect.”

Victor paused for thought. “Well I was going to save it for after the winter – you know, as a surprise. It’s always nice to have something to look forward to. But with the warm weather we’re having now, I thought, why not? We can keep coming here for a while when it’s getting too cold to sleep out in the open, because it’s so sheltered.” He looked around. “Not that it doesn’t feel cold and clammy sometimes. But it’s OK when you’re in a bedroll next to somebody.” He seemed to catch himself, and looked down, his cheeks pink.

Yuuri quirked a grin at him. To his surprise, it didn’t seem so bad, somehow, when his exes were openly alluded to, as opposed to being some kind of taboo subject. He reached out a hand and clasped Victor’s. “I can’t wait to find out,” he said softly.

A spark ignited in Victor’s eyes. “I’d better get these things cleared up.”

Yuuri helped him, and together they pushed the boxes back into the corner, then stood facing each other. “Now, Yuuri Taylor, may I have this dance?”

“In here?” Yuuri said, raising an eyebrow. “With no music?”

“Why not? There’s enough room. And we’ve danced in the stable before, without music. Besides…I bet you can hear it in your head. Am I right?”

“Well…yes, of course I can.” He smiled. “OK, I like the sound of this. What kind of dancing do you want to do?”

Victor unexpectedly suggested some easy and fun contemporary dances like the schottische, and the polka mazurka they’d done together at the hotel in town. They took turns spinning each other around, then Yuuri thought of a song he knew well and began to sing it, feeling a blush creep across his face. He usually preferred to be well liquored up before he was able to find the courage to do such a thing, but it was Victor he was with, and so he wasn’t so afraid to relax and be himself. Besides, it wasn’t as if he was trying to win a competition. Victor seemed to be delighted, and Yuuri trilled softly as they moved around the cove: “…and I will luve thee still, my dear, till a’ the seas gang dry…” Their gazes locked together, and they stood still and held each other when Yuuri finished the song.

“You have a lovely voice,” Victor said. “I feel like I’ve just been serenaded.”

Yuuri smiled shyly, not sure the praise was justified. People could be savage in their criticism, he’d found, when you had a go at singing something – though in his case, maybe it was because he was normally three sheets to the wind when he tried.

“How about some ballet?” Victor murmured, running a finger down Yuuri’s cheek. “We’re both good at that too.”

“Yes,” Yuuri whispered. He thought about the time he’d seduced Victor that way in the stable, and the blood felt hot in his veins.

They didn’t have a routine memorized, but they still found a rhythm and harmony together and anticipated each other’s movements well, taking turns lifting and dipping each other, lips almost but not quite touching, fingers sliding and teasing down cheeks and chests and limbs. Yuuri suddenly realized that Victor had been humming – a low, haunting melody that he’d never heard before, though it was some kind of waltz and had a bounce to it too. He could imagine it being played in a fancy ballroom somewhere, with women in elegant gowns twirling around.

“What is that? It’s beautiful.” They were keeping their voices quiet, as if they were in a church. It felt natural in here, somehow, as they danced in the silent lantern glow.

“The waltz from ‘The Sleeping Beauty Suite’ by Tchaikovsky. I’ve always liked it.”

“Keep moving,” Yuuri said, meeting his eyes as he reached around his neck to untie his bandanna, which fell to the ground. Then he slid his hands under the shoulders of Victor’s vest and slipped it down his arms, Victor momentarily freeing his hands to shrug it off. As they continued to dance, but more slowly, Yuuri began to unbutton Victor’s shirt, and Victor in turn started to mirror Yuuri’s actions. Eventually he seemed to forget to keep humming, intent on the other things he was doing, his breaths quickening.

With their shirts on the ground along with their boots and socks, which they’d kicked off, they continued to move together, though their dancing had segued into sensual stretches and caresses. As Yuuri dipped back and raised a hand behind his head, Victor caught it and pulled it toward him, giving his wrist an open-mouthed kiss with a flick of tongue that made Yuuri hiss out a breath. When he stood back up, he leaned forward, placed a hand on Victor’s cheek and left a trail of kisses up his neck interspersed with hot breaths and little soft licks, which evoked similar sounds. Yuuri felt him shudder against him, and his own cock pulsed. Victor’s hands gripped his ass and begin to knead, and Yuuri closed his eyes and groaned.

“You make me want you so much, over and over again,” Victor whispered against his hair.

Yuuri looked at him, eyes blazing, placed a hand on either shoulder, and backed him up slowly against the wall, surprise meeting him in Victor’s blue gaze. Whispering his name, he bent down and mouthed and licked at a nipple, which he knew Victor liked, while gently tweaking the other one with his fingers. Then he switched to do the same to the opposite side, and was rewarded with a cracked moan as Victor tilted his head back against the wall. Yuuri felt a spark of power and tried hard to accept it and own it this time, rather than using it to channel some fictional seducer-personality that wasn’t really him. He wanted it to be the genuine Yuuri who was looking through dark lashes and taking Victor apart piece by piece, loving every minute of it – and he swore to himself that no other man who had been here with Victor before, or anyplace else, was going to intimidate him any longer.

“Come here,” he said softly but firmly, cupping a hand behind Victor’s head and drawing him down into a long, deep kiss. He felt Victor’s arms wrap around his back. Their tongues caressed, and they made soft noises as their lips teased and tasted and played. As the heat and the want built in his groin, Yuuri placed his hand low on Victor’s hip, while his other slipped down and traced a line over the bulge in the front of his pants, then squeezed, drawing a gasp from Victor. “I want you too,” he whispered, keeping his fist firm while his thumb moved up and down.

“Yuuri,” Victor breathed out shakily, his fingers digging into his back. He thrust his hips forward, catching Yuuri’s hand between the heat of their bodies.

“Off,” was all Yuuri could manage to say as he took a step back and removed his remaining clothes, his pants and drawers. Victor did the same, continuing to look at Yuuri with hungry anticipation. Yuuri felt a brief stab of anxiety, feeling suddenly put on the spot and questioning as he had before whether he really knew what he was doing. But he forced it away, concentrating on the heat of the moment and the unbelievably sexy vision of Victor in front of him, nude and aroused and panting, his cheeks flushed, his pale skin reflecting the gentle glow of the lantern nearby.

Yuuri wanted to devour it. He caught Victor’s lips in a hard kiss, thrusting his tongue into his mouth while he ground their hips together. Momentarily taken aback by this, Victor let out a soft cry, then answered Yuuri’s movements with enthusiasm. Their hands roved freely and urgently through each other’s hair, across necks and backs, down arms and over hips. Yuuri’s need became so strong as he gasped and moaned into Victor that it felt like it was about to consume him. He had to take the next step and do what he’d been planning to do, before he climaxed now and it was all over.

“Where’s the oil?” he asked hoarsely. Following Victor’s glance at the lantern on the rock shelf, he saw it sitting nearby and moved away to snatch it, then quickly returned and pulled out the cork. “Turn around,” he said as he poured a generous amount into his hand. “Brace yourself against the wall.”

Victor’s eyes opened wide and he breathed out in a rush, then did as he’d been told, angling himself a little to make up for their difference in height. Yuuri swallowed and thought for a moment, as well as he was able with his cock aching and Victor in front of him as he was. _Just do what he does to you._ He slicked some oil on himself, then ran his dry hand down the small of Victor’s back and over his ass, pausing there.

“Do it,” came Victor’s firm voice, and Yuuri saw that he’d turned his head and was looking at him almost imploringly. Did he really want this so much?

The extra boost to his confidence was all he needed. He spread Victor open with one hand and worked the oil over him with the other, wondering why he hadn’t done this before when Victor had already done it to him more times than he’d counted. It was intimate and sensual. He did his best to pleasure Victor as well as work him loose, skating his finger around his entrance and gently teasing it in and out where he knew he’d be the most sensitive, and was rewarded with a series of sighs and moans as Victor began to move his hips in a matching rhythm. His head hung low between his arms, which were braced on the wall up to his elbows.

The jolt of desire Yuuri felt from seeing him in such a state spurred him on. He lined himself up, then began to slowly and gently push in. He had no idea how long it had been since Victor had done this, and didn’t want to hurt him. Soon, however, he felt lost in the moment; the tight warmth was a completely new sensation, and his eyes fluttered shut as he savored it. “OK?” he breathed.

“Yeah,” came Victor’s reply. “Go faster.”

Yuuri’s eyes shot open and he complied readily, relishing the slow slide until he bottomed out. When he looked down and saw himself sunk into Victor as deep as he could go, his cock twitched and his nostrils flared. It was incredible to think they were really doing this. What had he been so afraid of?

“Yuuri,” he heard Victor say. “Fuck me, baby.”

Yuuri shuddered out a breath and began to move, resting his hands lightly on Victor’s hips, soon finding a rhythm he liked. It seemed so natural. “Vitya…you feel amazing,” he choked out.

“So do you,” Victor gasped in reply. “I’ve wanted you inside me…for so long…” His voice trailed off, and he began to meet Yuuri’s movements with backward ones of his own. Instinctively, Yuuri grabbed him more tightly and pulled him onto him with every thrust, his thoughts scattering in fragments until almost nothing was left but the need to come, as the coil of desire within him quickly tightened.

Victor’s fingers were grasping at the wall in front him as he called out encouragements. Panting, Yuuri slid all the way out, moments before he reached the tipping point. As foggy as his brain was, he knew he didn’t want it to end like this – not for his first time, at least. Victor turned his head, but before he could say anything, Yuuri said, “Lie down on the bedroll…please, Victor. I want to be able to see you.”

Victor did as Yuuri asked, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his forehead beaded with sweat. He watched quietly as Yuuri propped himself up on his elbows over him. Steadily returning Victor’s gaze, he smiled and caressed his cheek. Victor closed his eyes, putting his warm hand over his. Yuuri leaned down for a kiss, and their tongues caressed each other, finding the spark of desire and building it back up. Victor ran his hands down Yuuri’s back and bucked his hips, making both of them groan.

Yuuri chose his words for maximum effect, remembering things Victor had said to him in the past. “You’re so beautiful, Vitya,” he whispered, continuing to look down at him with shining eyes. “Will you let me back inside you, baby?”

Victor gasped and stared. “Please,” he managed to get out, spreading his legs open wider under Yuuri.

As he claimed Victor’s mouth in another kiss, Yuuri sank back into him in one fluid movement that pulled a moan from them both. He tried to take it more slowly this time, but they were both still worked up from minutes before, and the urge to thrust faster and faster was impossible to resist. Victor canted his hips up, shifting around until he found the perfect angle, then tilted his head back in abandon, making small cries and clutching at Yuuri’s arms. Yuuri had never seen him so carried away, and it stoked his own desire further. He bit his lip against the pleasure, willing himself not to come until Victor did first, but finding it difficult as he watched and felt him writhe underneath him.

“Yuuri… _oh bozhe_ , that’s so good…don’t stop.”

Yuuri made a strangled noise, struggling to hold back the tide inside of him that was threatening to surge forward and overwhelm him. He grabbed Victor’s swollen cock and hurriedly slicked the precome over it, then pumped it with a tight, quick fist. Victor’s cries rose in volume and his arms shot backward so that his elbows jutted into the air, his palms landing flat on the ground. His back arched as he erupted in pulses that landed on his stomach and over Yuuri’s hand. The erotic sight of Victor being carried away into ecstasy was more than Yuuri could bear, and he cried out himself as his orgasm overtook him, shuddering through his entire body in waves. Feeling suddenly boneless afterward, he collapsed on top of Victor, then moved to the side so that he didn’t have to take his full weight. They both lay panting and staring at the roof of the grotto as if in a daze.   

Finally, Victor spoke: “Holy cow – isn’t that what they say here?”

Yuuri burst out laughing. “I guess so.” His stomach felt like it was full of happy butterflies, and the rest of him was warm and content, as if he’d just drunk a huge mug of the best hot chocolate. “I loved that,” he said, though he knew he was stating the obvious. “Though I love the other things we do, too.” He stroked Victor’s cheek. “Thank you for helping me find the confidence to do it. I’d be glad to do it a lot more…if you want me to.”

A wide smile crossed Victor’s face. “I’ll look forward to it.”

After a pause, Yuuri said very quietly, “I love you,” as he continued to stroke his cheek.

Victor’s sparkling blue eyes returned his gaze steadily, and he caressed his cheek in return. “I love you too.”

And to Yuuri, the entire world felt perfect in that moment. He looked around them, then picked up his drawers lying on the floor nearby and balled them up in readiness to clean them both.

“Ah, now – you’re forgetting one of the built-in benefits of this place,” Victor said.

Yuuri looked across the grotto. The noise of the waterfall was so soft and steady, and he’d been so distracted by other things, that he’d completely forgotten about it. He laughed at his own stupidity. “Our own shower that’ll never run dry. That’s pretty classy. You picked a good place for a date.” He stood up, walked over to the water, and held a hand out to catch the spray. It was cool, but not unpleasantly so, and the fine drops were like gentle pinpricks on his skin.

“Here – I’ve brought a few things.” Victor knelt and pulled soap and his hair conditioning potion from his bag. “If we actually want to bathe, though, it’s probably better to go out to the other side of the waterfall, where the stream is. Easier to wash without getting a lot of water in your face. But it has to be said, standing under the waterfall is wonderful on your back after a hard day.”

Once he was outside, Yuuri blinked up at the sky. The full moon was rising in the east and a few bright stars twinkled above. The gurgle of the stream further down was mixed with the steady roar of the waterfall, and he could just make out the chirps of the crickets. His damp feet were lightly coated with soil, and he found himself standing on the soft green grass that thrived near the stream. Used as he was to working outdoors, this kind of communion with nature was on a whole new level for him. He never thought he would end up standing naked under the moon and stars like this after having made love in a grotto behind a waterfall. It felt surreal; almost magical.

They soaped, rinsed and splashed, and cuddled and kissed in the stream, taking their time now that their desires had been sated. Afterwards they returned to the grotto, dried off with a towel from Victor’s saddlebag, and climbed into the bedroll. It was soon cozy with their combined warmth, and Yuuri snuggled against Victor, wrapping an arm over his chest.

“Thank you,” he murmured, kissing his shoulder. “For bringing me here. For everything.”

Victor chuckled. “You’re very welcome.”

“Though I still think we should’ve come here earlier. It’s private, for one thing.”

“It’s not as convenient as places on the ranch like the stable.”

“I don’t care. It’s fantastic.” He paused. “Let’s come back tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Victor laughed.

“Why not? How many more days like this do you think we’ll have before it snows or something?”

“Mmmm.”

“If we do, I promise I’ll find every place on your body that’s sensitive and kiss them until you can’t take it anymore.”

Victor raised an eyebrow. “Keep talking,” he said with a grin. “You might just persuade me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robert Burns, [A Red, Red Rose](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fDOyD2Pnp7o)  
> Tchaikovsky, [Waltz from The Sleeping Beauty Suite](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4_4EdDZjU60)
> 
> While the Robert Burns song was about 80 years old by the time Yuuri sings it here, _The Sleeping Beauty_ did not premiere until 1890, 15 years after this scene. But it felt so perfect for Yuuri and Victor’s dance, especially with Tchaikovsky being Russian and this being a ballet, that I couldn’t resist putting it in regardless.


	34. Chapter 34

They did return to the grotto the next night, later in the evening with just the bedroll this time; and Yuuri was glad he’d suggested it, because the next day the weather changed completely and rain and sleet blew in from the mountains. As October moved on into November, the heady warmth of summer – and the freedom and opportunities it had provided for Yuuri and Victor – seemed but a memory. They visited the grotto a few more times, but there was no source of heat in it, and it would be dangerous to try to light a fire due to the lack of ventilation. Yuuri wondered whether it might be possible, given time, to actually dig some holes in the side of the hill for this purpose, so frustrated was he that they would have to give up such a perfect location for their trysts until the next year; though Victor threw in an added complication when he told him that the waterfall tended to be frozen over by January as well.

Day-to-day life continued much as before, and as one would expect on the Circle C for the time of year. Yuuri and Victor had tamed more mustangs, ready for trailing the main herd of cattle back to the ranch from their summer pastures. In fact, Abe Connor’s wife Laura had taken a shine to Biscuit for some reason as she’d seen Yuuri out and about on her, and Abe had offered to let him have the strongest, swiftest mustang as a trade, but Yuuri declined as politely as he could. He’d had Biscuit for years; Bill Harvey, the old trainer at the Rafter T, had helped him learn how to ride and take care of her, and those were a lot of fond memories. Besides, she’d done well with the trick riding, and Yuuri was not keen on the idea of having to teach those things all over again to a new horse if it wasn’t necessary. Biscuit was his girl, and that was how it was going to stay.

Since the incident with the cattle stampede, Yuuri wasn’t so eager anymore to attend a long roundup where he’d be camping out, even if he was with Victor; but there was plenty to occupy them both at the ranch in the way of tending to the horses and cattle there as usual. There was also the Larkspur rodeo coming up in six months’ time, and Victor and Yuuri both got in as much bareback riding practice as they could for that, though it was difficult to fit it in away from the corral because they needed their saddles for carrying their gear. Yuuri loved it anyway, when he could manage it; and sometimes, with or without Victor, the urge came upon him to simply ride out on the open range at a fierce gallop, the wind whipping around him and Biscuit’s smooth, warm muscles flexing underneath. There was a kind of primal feel to it akin to what he’d experienced that first night he’d spent in the grotto, when he’d stood naked under the stars. No, this part of the world wasn’t perfect, and it could be downright savage and deadly at times…but it could be a mighty fine place to be, too.  

He continued to attend his ballet lessons, sometimes ending them now by sharing a drink and a talk with Clarissa before he left as he listened to stories from her past and the far-flung places where she’d lived. The more he heard about Paris, the more he dreamed of somehow going to see it one day, though he thought New York would be interesting too. He practiced what he’d learned in the stable, along with working out on the gymnastic apparatus, Victor joining him more often now that he was training for the rodeo as well. They distracted each other as always; but however amorous they felt, the chill that had settled in the air made them think twice about what they wanted to do. Their sex now tended to take place almost or fully clothed, whether they were grinding on each other, slipping a hand underneath clothing, or briefly freeing areas to be pleasured. It could be fun in a kind of mischievous, surreptitious way, but Yuuri began to miss and then crave skin-on-skin contact and more intimate forms of sex which it now felt he’d been tantalized with for such a short time. He tried not to grumble, though on the odd occasion when he did, Victor made it clear he was well aware of the situation himself.  

Something that remained at the back of his mind, also, was what to do for a date. Even an idea as basic as procuring nice food and drink was complicated by the fact that it was cold outside, and he couldn’t think of anyplace suitable on the ranch that was warm and private. They bought each other drinks and things to eat when they went into town, and often brought them back either to share with each other or with other ranch hands in the bunkhouse, but that was different. Victor put a lot of thought and kindness into what he did, and it made Yuuri feel special. He wanted to do something similar in return, but he drew a blank every time he tried to think of what. He hoped that if he let it rattle around in his brain for long enough, something would strike him eventually.

Then, toward the end of November, Walt announced that he was leaving to go back to the family home in the little town of Tecumseh, Missouri. Two of his sisters had gotten married and moved away, the one who remained had become chronically sick, and his mother’s health was failing as well. He reckoned they needed him there, and he would have to try and find someplace local to work. To Yuuri, who already understood the ephemeral nature of ranch life, it was a hard blow. He didn’t count many people as friends apart from Victor, and had stayed awake with Walt in the bunkhouse many a night talking and drinking, both of them being night owls. Walt also had a refreshing down-to-earth sense of humor, and the most infectious laugh Yuuri had ever encountered.

The men in the bunkhouse made sure he was feted like royalty a few nights before he left on his journey home – the few nights comprising the recovery time he would require after getting flat-out drunk with everyone else on Saturday night. The whiskey and beer had never flowed so freely, in Yuuri’s estimation, or at least from what he could remember. He and Victor had both helped themselves, and found to their relief that if they’d done anything embarrassing or incriminating, no one was talking about it the day after, including Chris, who would have let them know. No one talked about anything much at all that day until late, as just about the entire ranch had one mother of a hangover. It was a good old-fashioned send-off, they decided.

Walt had his scant belongings packed on his horse and was ready to leave Tuesday morning after breakfast. Yuuri had made sure he’d gotten out of bed early enough for once to have breakfast when most of the other men ate too, and as he and Victor sat next to Walt, they chatted about what he was going to do when he got back to Missouri. There were ranches in the Ozarks, the hills where his family lived, and places that needed horsemen, so maybe he’d get lucky. Or he might work on the railroad. Something would come up, he was sure; and until then, his two brothers were still sending money. His optimism seemed genuine, and Yuuri felt inspired by it, knowing that if he faced the same circumstances, his mind would probably be cluttered with worries about everything that might go wrong.

After Walt had said his goodbyes, Yuuri escorted him on Biscuit away from the ranch and down the road to Larkspur a small distance, then stopped, with no need to go further into town himself. He dismounted, and Walt did the same, and without a word they hugged each other tight. Tears sprang unbidden into Yuuri’s eyes.

“You look after yourself now, you hear?” Yuuri said to him in a choked voice, smiling even as the tears came.

“You too, Yuuri.” Walt’s cheeks were wet as well. “Though I expect you’ll be just fine with Victor lookin’ after you as he does. I hope the two of yuhz keep on doin’ that trick ridin’ and winnin’ at rodeos for a long time to come. Man,” he added with a chuckle, “that’s some hot shit to watch.”

Yuuri sighed out a laugh and sniffled, then broke away to pull something out of one of his saddlebags. “We, um…the guys at the ranch had a whip around. You know, to give you a little something to help you find your feet back home.” He gave Walt an envelope with a card. When he opened it, there was a stack of money inside. His eyes shot open in surprise.

“You all didn’t need to do this,” he said quietly. “Look, Yuuri, I can’t take this…it’s too much.”

“Please, Walt. We know how hard things have been for you. Well, I do. You take this and do something good with it. And I want you to write, OK? And let us know how things are going.”

After staring at the money for a moment like it had just dropped into his hands from the sky, Walt pursed his lips and tucked it into his saddlebags, along with the card, which had been signed or ‘X’ed by all the men in the bunkhouse.

“I’m gonna miss you, you crazy galoot,” Yuuri said, giving him another hug.

“’Til we meet again, pard,” Walt said solemnly. Then he got on his horse and, with a parting wave and a tip of his hat brim, rode into the distance.

Yuuri watched him go, then took Biscuit’s reins and walked her back to the wooden Circle C sign above the path that led to the ranch. When he looked up briefly, he was surprised to see Victor standing there next to Luchik. He swallowed as Victor searched his face, and then they strode toward each other and embraced. Yuuri nuzzled into the crook of Victor’s neck and said his name softly as more tears came, and Victor stroked the back of his head and kissed his hair. It felt to Yuuri like they stood this way for a long time while the pain lost its sharp edge.

“Why do the good ones have to go?” he said, lifting his head and wiping at his eyes.

“I’ve asked myself that sometimes.”

“I really will miss him.”

“I know. Me too.”

“Thanks for coming here to meet me. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to.”

“I’ve made a mess of your collar.” Yuuri smiled apologetically.

Victor just grinned back softly.

“Don’t _you_ ever plan on leaving me, Victor Nikiforov.” He intended it to be playful, but a deeper tone slipped in as he said it.

“Never.” His gaze was sharp and firm. There was a pause as he traced Yuuri’s bottom lip with his thumb. “Don’t leave me either,” he said more quietly.

Yuuri tightened his hold around him and met his eyes steadily. “Wild horses couldn’t drag me away.”

***

For a few days Walt’s old bunk lay empty, but it was soon filled by a young blond-haired cowboy who quickly fit into life on the ranch. It made Yuuri think again of Bill Harvey, and how he had nothing left of him but the few letters he’d written after he’d moved to Nebraska, which were stored in the desk in his room at the Rafter T. Sometimes when he did his lasso tricks, he still remembered Bill’s dark calloused hands manipulating his own to hold or swing the rope correctly, his deep voice full of praise for his efforts. In this place, memories were all anyone usually kept of someone who’d gone. He reckoned he’d be able to remember Walt sitting in his chair there by the stove, holding a bottle of whiskey or a hand of cards, and laughing uproariously, for a long time to come.

These thoughts were passing through his mind one morning at the tail end of November after he’d made his customary later start to the day. As he was leaving the bunkhouse to go to the stable, Victor walked in, running a towel through his wet hair. He was fully dressed, but droplets of water clung to his face.

“Have you been taking a bath in that wooden trough outside again?” Yuuri asked him. He’d seen him doing it several times since the cold weather had set in and it was no longer pleasant or practical to bathe in the river. It had felt good to be able to stare at him with open longing now, with no reason to hide his gaze from Victor at least, though it was unfortunately impossible to do the things it made Yuuri want to do while there was the chance of someone walking by and seeing – which meant he was still being frustratingly taunted by it.

“Of course,” Victor answered. But as he looked at Yuuri, who was the only other person in the bunkhouse for the moment, his shoulders dropped and his former blustery manner vanished. “Actually, I’ll tell you a secret. I may be Russian, but it’s still fucking cold.”

Yuuri laughed and came forward to gather him in his arms; he was met with no resistance. “Jesus, you _are_ cold. Let me warm you up.” He ran his hands over Victor’s back and then took his hands to hold between his own. “Why do you do it, then?”

“Maybe because I’m known for it, and I have a reputation to uphold,” he replied in the same frank manner. “And I just like being clean. That can be difficult to achieve at this time of year, so I guess I’m willing to go through a little hardship.” He smiled. “It’s worth it, though, if I can come in here and get this treatment.”

“Don’t expect it every time,” Yuuri chuckled, tilting his head up and kissing his cheek. “God, your face is like ice.” He pulled away and placed his hands over both of Victor’s pink cheeks in an effort to thaw them. “It’s not supposed to be this cold yet.”

“It snowed a little last night.”

“I’d better make sure I wear my heavy winter gear today then. See you in the stable in a bit?”

“OK. _And_...” he added before Yuuri could leave, “…I hope you’re prepared for a night on the town tonight.”

“What? Why?”

“You know why. It’s your birthday.” He pinged the tip of Yuuri’s nose with his forefinger and winked. “Or had you forgotten?”

“I, um…don’t usually give it much thought, I guess. Anyway, how did you find out? I never said anything about it.”

“I asked Phichit at the hoedown. So, what do you say – come with me and celebrate?”

Yuuri paused, touched by the gesture but also feeling that something about it wasn’t quite right. “Vitya, you’ve done so much for me. But you don’t have to keep doing all that stuff. The food, the drink, the dancing – you know I love it, but we agreed it was going to be my turn to arrange things next. Besides…” His brown eyes were warm. “…the best present I could have is you. Here with me.”

Victor’s face fell slightly. “That’s a lovely thing to say, but I _like_ doing those things. They’re fun, and I want to show you how much I care about you.”

“I can already see that.” Yuuri’s lashes fluttered; his lips were inches from Victor’s. “You don’t have anything to prove.” As Victor readied himself for a reply, he headed him off: “But yeah, I like doing things together too.” He stroked his cheek. “I have an idea. Tell me if you don’t think this’ll work. But why don’t we gather some firewood this afternoon and find a place a way from here where we can build a fire later tonight. We’ll bring a bottle of something to share, and a bedroll, and enjoy ourselves before coming back to the bunkhouse. Does that sound OK to you?”

“If that’s really what you want,” Victor said, the sparkle returning to his eyes. “Sure, I’d like that too.”

“Good – I’ll be looking forward to it.” He leaned in and gave Victor a deep kiss, his arms circling around him again; then he raked a hand through his hair. They moaned softly into each other before breaking apart, both of them aware that people came and went in the bunkhouse all the time, and that time could be now.

“If that’s a prelude to later tonight, I’ll be counting the seconds ’til then,” Victor said. “I feel all warmed up now.”

Yuuri smiled playfully, teasing under his bandanna with a finger. “You can bet on it.”            

***

“You’re joking. You’ve _got_ to be joking.” Yuuri laughed harder than he had in a long time. “Oh, I’m going to have to get you back for this.”

In his hands he held the bottle of Kentucky bourbon Victor had pulled out for them to share. The label said “Old Taylor.”

Sitting on the log next to him, his face softly aglow in the yellow and orange firelight, Victor looked down and chuckled. “I couldn’t resist when I saw it on Lennie’s shelf. And I’m four years older than you anyway, so no offense intended.”

“I never knew anything like this existed,” Yuuri mused, shaking his head as he held the bottle up to get a closer look at the label. “Wait.” He put his glasses on. “Eighty-six proof.  ‘If your distillery looks like a castle, your whiskey should be fit for a king.’ The guy on the front looks more like a colonel from the army, if you ask me.” He laughed again. “Let’s try some, then. You don’t happen to have a corkscrew handy, do you?”

“Naturally.” Victor pulled one out of a vest pocket. “Cowboys are always prepared.” He handed it to Yuuri, who took it.

“You know,” he said as he turned the corkscrew, “I didn’t ask you when your own birthday was. I must’ve missed it this year. I don’t know where my own head is sometimes.” He popped the cork out, then handed the corkscrew back. “And with all the things you do for me. I guess no one’s ever made a whole lot of fuss about birthdays in my family or on the ranch.”

“December the twenty-fifth,” Victor replied, warming his hands near the fire.

“Really? Christmas Day?”

“Well, it is here. Christmas in Russia is celebrated in January.”

“Oh. Well, it’ll be easy to remember.” He looked at the bottle he was holding, then lifted it up. “To this ‘old Taylor’ being twenty-five.” He took a swig and swished it around in his mouth, considering, then swallowed. “Tastes sweet like caramel at first, then turns to wood and kitchen spices, with a dry finish,” he said in a mock-pompous voice. “Reminiscent of elegant corn whiskies.” Dropping his tone back to normal, he added, “Or a bottle of good strong red-eye that’ll get you as sozzled as you please, take your pick.” Victor laughed as Yuuri had another mouthful, then handed him the bottle.

“To Yuuri Taylor.” He said something in Russian as he tipped the bottle toward him. “That means, ‘Congratulations on your birthday. Be always happy, healthy and loved.’ It’s part of a poem. I’d like to think I can help you with those things.” He took a swallow of the bourbon. “Hm, not too bad.”

Yuuri watched him, illuminated in the dancing flames. His hair and cheeks fairly glowed, and even the white of his shirt caught their flicker. Both of them were wearing their coats, though they had unbuttoned them; the warmth emanating from the fire they’d built was battling hard with the sharp chill of the night air. But it was much better than sitting in the bunkhouse with no privacy, or in a dark and cold outbuilding on the ranch. And Yuuri thought Victor was never so beautiful as he was when firelight was spilling over him. His heart swelled with love, and he said in a quiet voice, “Thank you.”

Victor smiled back at him, and they passed the bottle around a few more times before Victor put it back in his bag, which was sitting close to hand near the bedroll they’d laid out after clearing away an inch or so of snow. “It’s handy that you’re still wearing those,” he said, indicating Yuuri’s glasses, “because that was the next thing.”

“Hm?” Yuuri looked at him questioningly.

“I have something for you.” He dug in his bag again and took out a small oblong case made of black-painted lacquered wood. “This is my real present for you.” He held it out and Yuuri took it in surprise. “I thought it might work better for you than that old soft leather case you have. Looks like it should be a good fit, though it wasn’t actually made to be a glasses case; it was originally used as a pen box.”

“Oh?” He stared down at it. It was exquisite, and looked old but well-kept. Much of the top was covered by a painting with a red background that depicted a peacock with every feather painstakingly represented in colorful detail, and next to it there was a man charging on a horse who looked something like what Yuuri imagined a Cossack warrior to be like. He held a curved sword high above his head and wore a ushanka like Victor’s. There were strangle little gold flower-like shapes in the spaces between, and on either end of the top were matching gold and silver floral embellishments that encircled daisy heads. A line of perfectly spaced white dots surrounded the whole. “What…Victor, this isn’t for me?” Yuuri said in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes, _solnyshko_ , it’s for you. It belonged to my mother, and before that…who knows.”

Yuuri’s eyes widened. “I can’t possibly take this. You can’t have that many things left from Russia here. This…this must be really special.”

“It is.” Victor’s eyes mirrored the glow of the flames as he looked steadily at Yuuri. “That’s why I want you to have it. And you haven’t looked inside yet.”

Yuuri’s gaze dropped back down to the case and he opened it. It was empty inside, but underneath the sprung lid, which was made of a light-colored wood, were carved letters stained in sepia. They read: _To Yuuri Katsuki Taylor, love now and always, your Victor._ He gasped and traced the letters with the tip of his finger. “Victor…I don’t know what to say. No one’s ever given me anything like this before. I…” He swallowed as his eyes filled with tears. “You even remembered how to spell my Japanese name…Thank you so much. I’ll treasure it.”

“Should we make sure your glasses go inside OK?” Victor’s eyes were gentle, and there was a pleased expression on his face.

“I don’t think that should be a problem,” Yuuri said in a shaky voice. He removed his glasses and found that they nestled well inside the case. There was some space left over on either side of the length, but the width was perfect to hold them in place without being a cramped fit. He closed the lid and gave it a stroke, then opened his bag nearby and placed the box gently in a pocket inside. “To keep it safe for now,” he said. There was a fluttering in his chest as he thought of the engraving. “ _Your Victor,_ ” he quoted in a whisper.

“Yours. Always.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Yuuri said, and a tear escaped his eye and trailed down his cheek.

“Now none of that nonsense,” Victor chided gently, wiping the moisture away, though his own eyes were bright too.

Feeling overcome, Yuuri wrapped his arms around Victor and kissed him hard. He held him tight but wished he could do it more tightly still; wished he could reach right down into this wonderful man and touch his soul, the very essence of him, just like he’d touched Yuuri. The closest they seemed to be able to come that way in the material world was when they were physically joined in bliss. Yuuri didn’t feel far away from it in spirit, but his body craved that intimacy as well.

“Bedroll,” he said simply when they broke for breath.


	35. Chapter 35

A week before Christmas, a letter arrived at the bunkhouse for Yuuri. The writing on it was shaky, as if the person who had sent it was not used to taking pen to paper, and Yuuri’s name only had one ‘U’. Curious, he opened it and cried out in surprise and delight when he found out it was from Walt. Several of the men around him, including Victor, heard, and he read it out. Walt had had a safe journey home and had found work tending the horses at the stagecoach station in Tecumseh. His sister’s health was improving as well, and he was mending things around the house and preparing for the vegetable garden he was going to plant in the spring. He ended with, “Sorry you and Victor can’t be here with me. They got a big rodeo every year and I know you’d wipe the floor with anyone who tried to compete. Missing all them crazy things you both do. Say howdy to everyone for me. Sincerely, your pal Walt.” This elicited smiles and laughs, and Yuuri felt a warm glow inside as he tucked the letter into the trunk under his bunk for safekeeping, intending to reply in the near future.

Another missive came for him two days later, hand-delivered by one of the ranch hands from the Rafter T who was visiting the Circle C on business, but this one was less welcome. He sat down on his bunk, and Victor happened to be reclining in his own bed nearby, so he opened the note and read aloud: “Yuuri, we would like to invite you to the Rafter T for Christmas lunch. Be here by noon at the latest, and bring Mr. Nikiforov. We look forward to seeing you. Mom and Dad.” He put it down and sighed. “I suppose I ought to go – I haven’t been over there in months. But you’d better not come,” he said to Victor. “You know what they’re like.”

“Oh?” Victor answered, sitting up. “I think you underestimate my ability to charm even the toughest of customers.”

Yuuri eyed him dubiously. “They’d be that, all right. I really don’t – ”

“Besides, I’ve never had a good look at the ranch or been inside the house, and it’s where you’ve lived most of your life. I’d like to see it.”

“Oh…well, maybe.” He still wasn’t convinced it was a good idea, but it might be fun to show Victor around. “And my mother’s cooking isn’t half bad, I guess.”

“Great – it’s a date.” Victor smiled at him reassuringly, but Yuuri couldn’t shake the feeling that if it were indeed a date, it would be the most tedious one he would ever go on.

***

“Hey,” Yuuri said warmly when he got back to the bunkhouse after his lesson with Clarissa and saw Victor awake with a lantern burning next to him, reading a book in French; or at least that was what it looked like.

“Hey,” Victor said with a smile.

“What’s this you’ve got?”

Victor stuck a leather bookmark inside and looked at the cover. “I’ve only just started reading it. _Les Misérables_ by Victor Hugo. It’s supposed to be very good.”

“Hm, let me know – maybe I can get a copy in English.” Yuuri sat down on his bunk and began removing his boots.

“How did your lesson go?”

“Same as usual. I’ve had a good stretch.” He paused in the middle of taking off his second boot. “Say, Victor…Clarissa doesn’t have any family here, and when we were talking she mentioned that she doesn’t have any plans over Christmas. I reckon it might be a nice surprise for her to get some visitors. Do you want to come with me to see her, maybe on Christmas Eve?”

Victor raised an eyebrow. “That could be fun. Yes, I’d like that.”

Yuuri finished with his boot, then took off his socks. “She, uh…knows about the two of us,” he said quietly. Seeing the concerned look on Victor’s face, he hastily added, “She guessed. She’s like that – picks up on a lot of things you wouldn’t expect. But I trust her. She wouldn’t tell anyone.”

After a moment’s pause, Victor said, “OK. That’s good enough for me.”

***

“Yuuri – this is a surprise. We didn’t schedule a lesson for tonight, did we?” Clarissa was wearing a pine-green robe of some velvety material, silver slip-on high-heeled sandals, and teardrop-shaped pearlescent earrings. Her hair was gathered in a loose bun at the back of her head, held in place by two ivory-colored hairsticks, and her lips and nails were the usual crimson. Silver bracelets clacked at one wrist. “And you brought somebody with you?” She tried to peer into the dark corridor just behind the door, where Victor stood.

“Um, if this is a bad time,” Yuuri said just above a whisper, “we can wait downstairs and come back up – if you’re waiting to see someone, or – ”

“Oh Christ no, not on Christmas Eve. A gal’s gotta have a break once in a while. I was just trying to get into the festive spirit, thinking it was a shame I got dressed up with noplace to go. Downstairs don’t count.” She tried to look behind him again. “Who’s your friend?”

“You remember Victor?”

Her face lit up and she threw the door open. “How could I forget? _Entrez donc – quel plaisir de vous revoir !_ ” She gestured for them to come into the room.

“ _Tout le plaisir est pour moi. Vous êtes radieuse, comme toujours_ ,” Victor said to her with a smile and a little bow. He and Yuuri were both carrying bulging leather satchels.

“This guy knows how to talk to a lady. _Vous n’êtes pas trop mal, vous non plus, mon beau dandy_. So, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure, my fine young cowboys? Drink?” She approached the sideboard.

“We brought some,” Yuuri said, bringing his satchel over to the dining table and opening it. Victor joined him, and together they unpacked the food and drink they’d been carrying. Clarissa’s eyes were wide as she watched in the dim light there in the corner of the room. “If you’ve got a lamp you could put over here, you could see better.”

“Here,” Victor said, carefully picking up an elaborate pink glass one that was already lit from the table next to the sofa, placing it on the dining table, and turning the wick up so that it threw out a cheerful glow.

“Good grief, you brought all this here – what, to share?”

“Well that was the plan,” Yuuri said. “But if you don’t like the look of it…”

“I like the look of everything, including the two guys who brought it. Well, lucky me!” She smiled at them both, looking a little unsure of what to make of the unusual situation. “So what is all this stuff here?” She started sorting through packages and containers and bottles, while Yuuri and Victor explained. They’d obtained some of it from town and some of it from the cook shack. There was beef jerky, cornbread, dried fruit and nuts, several jars of pickled vegetables, some cheeses and a baguette, along with mustard and jam and butter; and for dessert fruitcake and bars of chocolate. In the way of drinks they’d brought a bag of coffee they’d taken turns grinding, and some bottles of whiskey and wine.

“We didn’t want to put you out by bringing anything you had to cook,” Yuuri explained as she ran her fingers over some of the packages, seemingly awestruck. “I know jerky isn’t exactly a traditional part of Christmas dinner…well I guess none of these things are. But I thought maybe you’d like them.”

“I…I don’t know what to say. I certainly wasn’t expecting this from anybody tonight.” She looked at Victor. “ _Vous n’auriez pas dû dépenser tout cet argent. Je ne mérite guère tout cela_.”

“ _Chacun mérite un beau Noël. Et pour ma part, je souhaitais vous exprimer ma gratitude pour ce que vous avez fait pour Yuuri. Vos leçons l’ont tellement aidé. Je crois que cela a beaucoup compté pour lui_.”

Clarissa laughed in disbelief. “If you say so – though I think you know how to turn on the charm too, and you’re talking to someone who hears that kind of thing every day.” Before he could reply, she said, “Still…I think it’s genuine this time. Yuuri, he says my lessons have been helping you. Is he right?”

“You have to ask?” He squeezed her affectionately around her waist and gave her a peck on the cheek. “It’s my own fault if I never said so before, but I’m grateful for everything you’ve done.”

A blush spread across her cheeks and she smirked at Victor. “You going to tolerate that kind of behavior from your boyfriend here?”

“Well, he can have his turn too.” Yuuri let go of her and tilted his head up to Victor on the other side of him, giving him a peck on the cheek as well.

“You can _both_ have a turn with me,” Clarissa said.

Yuuri raised an eyebrow and Victor guffawed. “ _Je crois que vous devriez reprendre vos esprits, Madame. Nous ne sommes pas à Paris_ ,” he said in a teasing tone.

“I’m not in Paris? You could’ve fooled me. Now,” she said, eyeing the spread on the table, “do we eat first, or go straight to the alcohol? I know which I prefer.”

They sat around the table and enjoyed what seemed like a veritable feast, using Clarissa’s china and cutlery, and drinking from her tumblers. She asked them more about the trick riding they did, saying she’d never been to a rodeo but maybe would have to go and see these extraordinary things they got up to. Victor invited her to tell him more about her background, something Yuuri hadn’t shared even with him, respecting her confidence. But, fueled by drink, she was eager to elaborate. There was more about Benjamin the sweet-talking two-timer, and how he’d dumped her here with two sons to raise. But she also spoke of New York and Paris and the theatre and ballet, and both Victor and Yuuri were enthralled, as if they could see the lights of the stage in front of them, and the actors and dancers, and hear the applause. She obviously had enough anecdotes about show business people she’d known to entertain them for hours, if they let her; and some of them included male couples, transparently for the benefit of her guests, Yuuri thought wryly.

Over cups of coffee, Victor asked her more about the ballet she’d learned, and they all discussed styles and poses and types of music. Of course what Clarissa had been doing since she’d left her home country was hybridized with the contemporary dance styles of wherever she found herself, as she was catering to an audience. But she’d been both utterly surprised and as pleased as punch that Yuuri had come to her asking for lessons, as it had brought back everything she’d learned in the proper traditional way. And why not do some together, here and now, while they were on the subject? she suggested.

“What, the three of us?” Yuuri said. “There’s no room. And what would we wear?”

“What a sorry set of excuses,” she said, getting up from the table. “Yes, the three of us; we all know how to dance, don’t we? I think you’ll find there’s enough room if we’re careful. And you can wear what you usually wear – or nothing. Makes no difference to me.”

“I think it’s a lovely idea,” Victor said, getting up himself. “What _do_ you usually wear, Yuuri?”

“Um…this time of year, my long johns.”

“Really?” He looked amused.

“I’ll just go change into something more suitable myself,” Clarissa said. “Be back before you know it.” She disappeared into her bedroom.

Victor chuckled. “She’s got you wrapped around her little finger, _kotyonok_. I think she must like the view while you dance for her. I can’t say I blame her.”

“I’m used to it,” Yuuri said, pulling off his boots and stepping out of his clothes while Victor did the same, so that they were both clad in only their long johns. Victor’s were white and, Yuuri thought with a blush, imagining Clarissa’s roving gaze, left little to the imagination. “So what is it you called me just now?”

“ _Kotyonok_? It means ‘kitten’. I don’t think I could ever run out of pet names for you, there are so many to choose from.”

“I’ve noticed,” Yuuri said with a smile. “I think I’ll have to find some more for you.”

“How about ‘my handsome red-hot lover,’ for starters?”

Yuuri laughed, as Clarissa re-entered the room. She’d put on a simple short-sleeved white dress with a billowing skirt that ended at her calves, and was wearing white satin slippers. “Oh look, we match!” she said, eyeing Victor. “ _Tout à fait charmant_.”

“ _M’accorderez-vous cette danse ?_ ” he asked her with a low, graceful bow.

“ _Ciel, je crois rêver_. You don’t have to ask me twice.”

Yuuri stood to the side with his arms folded across his chest, watching them as they spun and dipped and glided around the room, and in his imagination they were on a stage. The light from the oil lamp on the dining table, filtered through its pink chimney, cast a gentle rose-colored glow on their clothes and skin, and glinted softly in Victor’s hair. Yuuri hadn’t anticipated that they’d be doing this here, but was glad for Clarissa – her face was as radiant as a little girl’s on Christmas morning, and the years seemed to fall away from her as she danced. He knew very well what it felt like to be partnered with Victor – the brush of his long fingers, the warm touch of his hand to guide, the strength of his hold, his poise and confidence as he moved. Watching him was like viewing a work of art that had had life breathed into it; though Clarissa had an easy mastery all of her own that obviously came from long experience, and in her own way she was just as mesmerizing. How strange that fate had landed all of them here, Yuuri thought, when it seemed their talents decreed that they belonged elsewhere; and how awful for Clarissa that she’d been ripped away from what she had loved and discarded like a week-old newspaper. He wished once again that he could give her more help, but he’d never been able to think of a way. It seemed impossible.

Yuuri told them that they were beautiful when they finished, which seemed to flatter them both. They all continued to dance into the night, taking turns as couples, or making up little routines as a threesome, pausing occasionally for drinks and, in Clarissa’s case, the odd cigarette. Eventually, however, she stopped and looked at them both, her cheeks glowing and eyes shining. “As much fun as this has been, gentlemen, I ain’t as young as I used to be, and I’m feeling whacked. The part of me that wishes it could go on doing this forever has already had to go to bed, and I think the rest of me’s gonna have to join it.”

“Well, thanks for a wonderful evening – ” Yuuri began, but she caught his arm.

“Now hang on a minute. You think I’m gonna turn you both loose outside at this hour on Christmas Eve? And after you brought me booze, and all that _délicieux_ food, and then danced with me like I haven’t danced in years? What sort of hostess do you think I am, anyways?” She paused. “Well, just don’t ask them that question downstairs. Anyway, the two of yuhz might as well stay. You can build up the fire and sleep there on the floor – I’ve got a good-sized blanket somewhere, if I can find it, and an extra pillow or two.”

Yuuri brightened, as did Victor. “Really? That’s very kind. Thank you.”

“I’ll trust you both to be on your best behavior while you’re here, mind.” The corner of her mouth twitched.

***

“Victor, you heard what Clarissa said.” Yuuri squirmed and grinned, playfully prising Victor’s fingers from his hip, which was still clad in his red long johns. They were spooning under Clarissa’s woolen blanket in front of the glowing fire, the dancing flames the only light now in the room. “You know, about being on our best behavior?”

Victor hummed into his hair. “I think she meant it about as much as she did when she listed all the sexy things both of you had been getting up to here after your lessons were over.”

“What?” Yuuri gasped. “I never heard her say that.”

“She said it in French.” He chuckled. “And she’d had a lot to drink.”

“God, what _is_ she like.”

“I think she’s a treasure.” His hand crept surreptitiously over Yuuri’s thigh. “Though in all honesty, the banter seems to hide a lot of sadness.”

“That’s how I feel too. I was hoping we’d make her happy by coming here tonight. I think she needs more of that.”

“You have a heart of gold, _zvezda moya_.” He ghosted his lips over Yuuri’s neck and moved the hand on his thigh in little circles.

“It – it was amazing to watch you both dance.” Victor’s gentle but persistent movements were maddening.

“It was a lot of fun. So is this.” He lightly nibbled the shell of Yuuri’s ear, his hand shifting to caress Yuuri’s inner thigh, up and down. When Yuuri finally couldn’t take it anymore, he groaned, grabbed Victor’s hand, and sandwiched it under his own in the place where he was aching for it most.

They made love twice that night, both of them keen to take advantage of the rare opportunity of having warmth and privacy at the same time in the middle of winter; both hungry for the skin-on-skin contact they’d been craving. When they struggled to decide who would take who the first time around, Victor had suggested they simply take turns, which was an option that Yuuri had never considered before, but discovered he liked very much. Pressed against each other chest to chest on their sides under the blanket, Victor began and guided them both to the brink; then they rolled over with Victor on his back, and Yuuri helped them the rest of the way, unable to refrain from moaning and whispering sweet nothings against Victor’s skin, keeping his voice low so that Clarissa would not be disturbed. Victor whispered back in his ear as they rocked and bucked and thrust their way into bliss. There were no inhibitions left for Yuuri about doing this – Victor clearly wanted it, and loved it; and a soft, yielding side of him emerged in such moments that was seldom seen in day-to-day life. It felt to Yuuri like he’d opened Victor up to find that particular pearl inside, and the secret knowledge of it made him want to revisit it again and again.

Then at some undefinable time into the small hours of the morning, as the embers of the fire spilled a dim orange glow over them both, Victor awoke behind Yuuri; they had fallen asleep back to back, their arms and legs tangled together. Usually their days were so full and exhausting that if they found the energy and opportunity to make love, they would both sleep solidly through the night. Yuuri never found out what happened to make this night different; perhaps Victor had had a nightmare and wanted comforting, or perhaps he’d had an erotic dream. At any rate, he gradually became aware of hot, soft kisses against his neck, and then Victor’s hard cock pressing urgently against his ass. The sudden, surprising degree of Victor’s need, the sighs and kisses he mouthed along Yuuri’s shoulders and back, and the way he quietly begged Yuuri to let him take him from behind ignited a fuse, and Yuui soon felt full of heat as well. It was quick, almost desperate, and amazingly sensual; and when Yuuri awoke in the morning, the memory of it still flickered on the edges of his consciousness, as if the intervening time had only been moments in length. His eyelids fluttered and he sighed in contentment when he felt Victor’s breath on his cheek and received a whispered, “Good morning, my love.”

He opened his eyes to discover that Victor was crouching next to him, completely nude and obviously untroubled by the fact. “You’re up already? Have you been walking around like that?”

“Only for a little while. I had a wash; there’s a pitcher and basin over there. Don’t worry, our hostess hasn’t made an appearance yet. Though I doubt I have anything to show her that she hasn’t seen before – and besides, she’s French.”

“Yeah, but still.” Yuuri stretched and reached up to kiss Victor’s cheek. “We’d better get some clothes on.”

Yuuri had a wash himself; and when they were both dressed, he wrapped his arms around Victor’s waist. “We haven’t had a proper good-morning kiss. And after everything we did last night.”

Victor snickered and leaned in to meet Yuuri’s lips. It was lazy and lingering and playful, mixed with little flashed smiles and nibbles. Just about every morning in the bunkhouse, Yuuri found himself wishing he could do this with Victor, who was so near to him and yet off limits while there were others around, which was almost always the case.

“Merry Christmas,” Victor said, running his fingers affectionately under Yuuri’s chin.

“ _Tanjoubi omedetou. Aishiteru_.” He smiled at the curious look on Victor’s face. “That means ‘Happy birthday,’ and ‘I love you.’ ”

“That’s lovely.” He kissed Yuuri’s forehead tenderly. “Thank you. I thought you didn’t remember much Japanese.”

“I don’t. But it’s coming back now, a bit. I guess you noticed we have a new Japanese cook on the ranch?”

“I’ve seen him in the cook shack, yes. I thought those delicious noodle dishes we’ve had lately were probably his doing.”

“You’re probably right,” Yuuri said with a quiet chuckle. “His name’s Hajimu. We came face to face a little while back when I went for a late breakfast, and when he saw me and heard my accent – apparently I’ve still got one after all these years – he started talking to me in Japanese. When I told him I couldn’t understand, you should have seen him. He was really mad.” He chuckled again. “Like I’d offended him or something. ‘A Japanese man who can’t speak Japanese – that’s outrageous,’ he said.” Now Victor was laughing too. “So I’ve met up with him a few times since, while he’s been working in the cook shack, and he’s been teaching me a few things. I told him I’ve got a sweetheart in town.” He smirked. “Though it was hard enough to get him to teach me how to say ‘I love you’ in the romantic sense. Apparently Japanese people aren’t as free with terms of endearments like that as they are here…or in Russia.”

“And I was thinking you’d been putting in extra practice hours in the stable.” Victor paused. “I’m glad, Yuuri. It’s felt to me like you’d been cast adrift in a way, with no one around to teach you about your culture.”

“If you asked me, I’d say my culture’s American, if there is such a thing. But…yeah, it’s nice to think about my Japanese parents sometimes, and wonder…” His voice trailed off, and then he seemed to catch himself. “Anyway, I _am_ still practicing hard too. I can’t wait for the rodeo.”

“Me either,” Victor said, his eyes sparkling.

“And I want today to be special for you. Which I doubt visiting my parents is going to achieve. I want to see you later on in private, though, because I’ve got something for you.”

“Oh? You shouldn’t have.”

“Says the one who showers me with gifts.”

“Well…” He didn’t seem to know what else to say.

“Exactly. I want to be able to return the favors once in a while, if I can.”

“You can do it now by kissing me again,” Victor said; and looking at him as he stood in the morning sunlight streaming through the window, his cheeks dusted with pink, his eyes sparkling, and a fond grin on his face, Yuuri couldn’t think of a better way to spend the next little while.

“Now, boys, this is a respectable establishment.”

Yuuri pulled away from Victor with a smile as he heard Clarissa’s teasing voice behind him and turned around. She had a pink robe on with a pair of fluffy pink slippers, and he thought this was probably the first time he’d seen her without her hair piled on her head; it hung down her back in a thick, loose braid. There were bags under her eyes, but her manner was brisk and friendly as she lit a cigarette and looked through the food left over from the night before.

“ _Bonjour, Madame_ ,” Victor said. “ _J’espère que vous ne vous ressentez pas trop de la soirée d’hier ?_ ”

“Hm? Nah. I’m a tough old girl, me. Though with it being Christmas morning and all, I wonder if…yeah, why not. I’m gonna have a little glass of something.” She picked up a bottle of bourbon and poured some into a tumbler. “Looks like we’ve got enough left here to eat to make a decent breakfast – and that’s the food as well as the alcohol. What do you think? Merry Christmas, by the way.”

Yuuri and Victor ate enough to feel just pleasantly full, leaving plenty left over for Clarissa to enjoy in the coming days. Since they were expected for lunch at the Taylors’ house, Yuuri thought it wise to take their leave shortly afterward. There were thanks all around for a lovely night, and he assured Clarissa that he wanted to carry on taking lessons into the New Year. She gave each of them an effusive hug.

“Either of you’s welcome to come up here and see me whenever you like. And keep lookin’ out for each other. You’re the cutest couple I’ve ever seen.”

“ _Vous êtes aussi généreuse que ravissante_ ,” Victor said to her, though she waved away his compliment. He smiled at her and said “ _Adieu_ ” as he passed outside.

“Hang on a minute, you,” she said to Yuuri as he made to follow, putting a hand on his shoulder. In a confidential voice, she added, “He makes me feel thirty years younger, that one. You’ve got a real sweetie there, kid. Here’s some advice from someone who’s been around a bit – don’t let him go, you hear?”

Yuuri just looked at her for a moment, then swallowed and nodded. “Merry Christmas, Clarissa.”

To his surprise, there was already a small group of cowboys in the saloon when he and Victor got downstairs, clearly starting their Christmas celebration early. They looked up when the two of them emerged from the stairway.

“Well if it ain’t Clarissa’s favorite guy,” one of them said amid whistles. “Damn, man, you’re gonna wear her out up there. Two of you this time!” He held up his fist and made an obscene gesture, his pals obviously finding amusement in the situation as well.

Victor just smiled at them without a trace of embarrassment as they passed through the saloon to the exit, while Yuuri tried for a poker face but failed and ended up blushing. When they got outside, Victor laughed long and hard. Yuuri, finding his merriment contagious, finally couldn’t help but join in, and they collected their horses and rode back to the Circle C with light hearts.

Yuuri found his good mood to be ephemeral in nature, however. When he returned with Victor to the bunkhouse, he stretched out on his bed and replayed his memories of the night before, and that morning, in his mind, which suffused him with warmth and a sense of well-being; but as the time to depart for the Rafter T crept closer, this began to fade away and was gradually replaced by a feeling of trepidation, like gray clouds blotting out the sun. He didn’t want to go, and he wanted even less for Victor to come too, but kept telling himself that it was the least he could do after not having been back for so many months. Still, he couldn’t help but think the best course of action would have been to find an excuse to stay at the Circle C.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More French with Victor and Clarissa:
> 
> Her face lit up and she threw the door open. “How could I forget? _Come in – it’s so good to see you again!_ ” She gestured for them to come into the room.
> 
> “ _Pleased to see you too. You look as beautiful as always,_ ” Victor said to her with a smile and a little bow. He and Yuuri were both carrying bulging leather satchels.
> 
> “This guy knows how to talk to a lady. So, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure, my fine young cowboys? Drink?” She approached the sideboard.
> 
> ***
> 
> “I…I don’t know what to say. I certainly wasn’t expecting this from anybody tonight.” She looked at Victor. “ _You shouldn’t have spent so much money. I don’t deserve all this._ ”
> 
> “ _Everyone deserves to have a nice Christmas. And for my part, I wanted to thank you for what you’ve done for Yuuri. Your lessons have helped him so much, and I think they’ve meant a lot to him._ ”
> 
> Clarissa laughed in disbelief. “If you say so – though I think you know how to turn on the charm too, and you’re talking to someone who hears that kind of thing every day.” Before he could reply, she said, “Still…I think it’s genuine this time. Yuuri, he says my lessons have been helping you. Is he right?”
> 
> ***
> 
> “You can _both_ have a turn with me,” Clarissa said.
> 
> Yuuri raised an eyebrow and Victor guffawed. “ _I think you should behave yourself, Madame. You’re not in Paris,_ ” he said in a teasing tone.
> 
> “I’m not in Paris? You could’ve fooled me. Now,” she said, eyeing the spread on the table, “do we eat first, or go straight to the alcohol? I know which I prefer.”
> 
> ***
> 
> “Oh look, we match!” she said, eyeing Victor. “ _How charming._ "
> 
> “ _May I have this dance?_ ” he asked her with a low, graceful bow.
> 
> “ _This is a dream come true._ You don’t have to ask me twice.”
> 
> ***
> 
> “ _Bonjour, Madame,_ ” Victor said. “ _I hope you aren’t suffering any ill effects from last night?_ ”
> 
> “Hm? Nah. I’m a tough old girl, me."
> 
> ***
> 
> “Either of you’s welcome to come up here and see me whenever you like. And keep lookin’ out for each other. You’re the cutest couple I’ve ever seen.”
> 
> “ _You’re kind as well as beautiful,_ ” Victor said to her, though she waved away his compliment. He smiled at her and said “ _Adieu_ ” as he passed outside.


	36. Chapter 36

It was about eleven a.m. when the two of them arrived at the ranch. They stabled their horses and approached the house, and Yuuri’s parents both came to the door to greet them. Eva was heron-like, Victor thought, with long, scrawny limbs and neck, slightly puffed out in the middle. Her brown hair was arranged meticulously on top of her head, and she wore a blue and white checked cotton dress with a white apron around her waist. Her china-blue eyes were amplified by the glasses she wore, and her thin lips looked somewhat severe, especially as she seemed to keep them pursed much of the time.

If Yuuri’s mother were a heron, then his father was a hawk in his brown city suit, his graying blond hair slicked back from his forehead and his long nose seeming to hook over his frowning mouth. He looked like he couldn’t wait to swoop down on something with talons extended just for the hell of it.

“Well look at you,” Eva said, opening the door for Yuuri; Victor followed him inside. “You sure are keeping fit over there at the Circle C.”

“Hi, Mom. Dad. You remember Victor.”

“We’ve met,” Hank said tersely, shaking Victor’s hand. Victor leaned in and gave Eva a peck on the cheek, saying it was good to see her again. She looked startled but then smiled.

“Come on in and have a drink,” Hank invited them, and they filed into the parlor, where a selection of whiskeys was displayed on the sideboard along with glittering crystalline tumblers. “Scotch, bourbon, gin – you name it, we’ve got it.”

Soon Yuuri and Victor were each holding a tumbler of bourbon. It was obviously high-class and expensive, Victor thought, but he was struggling to enjoy it. Yuuri’s parents were polite enough, but there was a definite tense undertone to everything that vibrated just below the surface. An echo of it was amplified in Yuuri’s eyes as he stood and sipped at his drink.

“It’s good to see you, son,” Hank said heartily as he poured himself a drink. “I’d have thought you’d come and visit us sooner. Reckon you’ve been away almost a year now, in fact.” He stood and sipped the amber liquid, looking at Yuuri.

“Must be three months ago I saw you in town,” his mother chimed in. Her fingers fiddled with the ties of her apron in front of her. “Promising to make you apple pie always used to work before.” She tittered. “I guess I should be trying to tempt you with your dad’s good bourbon now.”

“That oughta work,” Hank said with a wry smile. “I’ve seen you tip it into your hip flask enough times.” He winked at Yuuri, but there was little warmth in his tone.

Victor’s stomach had begun to complain, and it wasn’t because he was hungry, which he wasn’t particularly. He glanced at Yuuri, and his heart went out to him as he saw the apology in his eyes aimed back at him.

“So…” Yuuri said, “…how have things been here while I’ve been away?”

His father seemed happy to pursue this topic, he and Eva taking turns talking about the boom in the cattle market, who they had visited recently, and local places they’d been to. His own words to Yuuri earlier in the week sprang back to Victor’s mind: _I think you underestimate my ability to charm even the toughest of customers._ He wondered if he’d ever been so challenged in this respect, even by the stoical army commanders back in Russia, and was feeling smaller and more insignificant by the minute – something he was unused to and definitely did not like. There seemed to be no way into the conversation for him – or for Yuuri, who continued to stand and drink with a bland expression, contributing the odd noncommittal response.

“Oh by the way, son,” Hank said as he finished his drink, “I’m still missing my best horseman. There’s a couple of things that need doing in the stable while you’re here – maybe Victor can help you.”

“Now Hank,” Eva chided him, “it’s Christmas Day. Give the boy a break. Besides, we’ll be eating in an hour. Speaking of that, I’d better go to the kitchen and check on things.”

“And I told Victor I’d show him around,” Yuuri jumped in, putting his half-finished drink on the sideboard. Victor did the same and followed him outside, both of them buttoning up their coats.

“I’m really sorry,” Yuuri said before Victor could say anything himself.

“There’s nothing you need to apologize for. You’re not responsible for their behavior.”

“I brought you here.” They were walking through a couple of inches of wet snow back to the stable.

“I said I wanted to come.”

“Changed your mind yet?” Yuuri smirked, but there was sadness in his eyes.

Victor brushed a hand across his waist. “Not as long as I’m with you.”

As Yuuri gave him a more thorough tour around the stable, which was ordinary for a ranch of this size and well-kept, Victor thought about Hank and Eva and their house. He’d always believed his own parents had been difficult, but as least Mama gave him a kiss when he came home, and Papa would occasionally speak _with_ him, not _at_ him. And the décor in the house could best be summarized as sterile – pristine, white, uncluttered, lacking in personality. There was no sign Victor could see of Yuuri ever having lived there, nor was there any portrait of him on the wall among the people who were presumably the ancestors of his adoptive family. Victor was suddenly filled with an instinct to protect him from this place and these people – but of course it was far too late for that now. Even so, Yuuri had somehow grown into the beautiful man he was here, though Victor suspected his Japanese parents might have had far more to do with that than the Taylors.

As they drifted into the corral, Yuuri told him with nostalgia in his eyes about an old trainer of theirs who he had obviously been close to, and Victor was glad he’d met with some kindness here at least. They briefly stopped by the bunkhouse, where Yuuri seemed to be surprised by the enthusiastic greetings he received; he had to end up promising that he’d catch up with everyone in town that evening at the Wagon Wheel, where some of the local ranch owners were paying for a festive food and drink spread for their men. He and Victor exchanged friendly words with Zach and Phichit, who they also intended to see later, and then Yuuri pointed out a few places on the grounds where he used to play or hide as a child, before they returned to the house by a different route and went inside.

“This ranch would’ve been a beautiful place to grow up,” Victor commented as they passed down another clinically white hallway.

“It sure was. Mountains outside my window every morning. The river nearby.” He turned the knob of a door they’d approached. “Here we are.” He opened the door and, when they were both inside, closed it and flicked a lock.

Victor looked around. Yuuri’s bedroom was sparsely furnished with a single bed and a small table next to it with a candle that had mostly burned down, a dresser, and a desk with a chair over which a white cotton shirt was draped. On the wall was a painting of some cowboys riding their horses toward the mountains as the sun set in a blaze of pink and orange. If you looked closely, they didn’t appear to be winding down to head back to the ranch at the end of the day. Instead, you could almost imagine they were searching for something.

“I thought I’d packed all my clothes,” Yuuri mused, fingering the shirt. “Maybe I left this somewhere else in the house and my mom put it here.”

“It’s cozy.”

“This was home for sixteen years. You wouldn’t think so, I guess, but I never had much stuff, and I took most of it with me to the Circle C.” There was a silence, and then Yuuri looked into his eyes. “Victor…I know this room doesn’t look like anything special, but I spent a lot of time here, especially just before I left. There’s more bad memories than good. It would…mean a lot to me if we could…maybe make one really nice memory here, the two of us.” He briefly stroked Victor’s chin, looking at him uncertainly, perhaps afraid all he wanted to do after earlier was leave the house.

Victor smiled at him. “Wasn’t your mother getting us a meal?”

“By my reckoning, we’ve got half an hour. She’s usually very punctual.” He reached around and played with the hairs at the nape of Victor’s neck, sending a shiver down his spine. “So what do you say?”

“Half an hour, hm?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri breathed softly against his lips, circling his other arm around Victor’s waist. God, he knew how to be seductive. There was no resisting him – and no reason to.

They spent a highly enjoyable half hour in Yuuri’s bed, which was just able to accommodate them both if they stayed tangled up together. Victor had been amused to discover that Yuuri had obviously planned this in advance, as he’d tucked a bottle of oil into a vest pocket. “What actually is this stuff, and where do you get it from?” he’d asked. Victor had had enough presence of mind to tell him it was almond-oil-based, from California via a mail-order catalogue, and said he’d tell him the rest later. He kept a stock of a few essential oils that he added some drops of, just because he liked the hint of scent. In a way it was a shame, though, because now the bed smelled of that rather than the evocative cigarettes-and-Yuuri one that had previously lingered.

Victor had also been touched by Yuuri’s suggestion that they repeat what they’d done the first time they’d made love, back in the shepherd’s hut, nude and slick and sliding against each other. It felt in a way that Yuuri was trying to drive away the shadows that had built up in here over the years, like opening the curtains and the window to the morning light after a long night; and Victor was eager to help. They’d even had a few minutes to cuddle and caress before they had to get cleaned up and dressed.

“Thank you,” Yuuri had murmured against his cheek.

Victor chuckled, having come to expect these words from Yuuri at such times. “No need to thank me for something so pleasurable, _lyubov moya._ ”

“I hope you still feel that way in an hour or two.”

“I feel so good right now that I could climb up to the rooftop and shout out how wonderful Yuuri Taylor is and how much I love him.”

“I’d come with you, but it’s cold out there,” Yuuri laughed, peppering more kisses over his face. 

***

Victor ended up needing that feel-good session with Yuuri, because the meal turned out to be rather a trial. Eva was the easier of the two to win over with a charm offensive. Victor praised the succulent turkey, sweet and sour cranberries, moist stuffing with just the right amount of herbs, rich gravy, and pretty much anything else he could think of, including the house and the decorations he’d seen, which no doubt she was in charge of as well. He glimpsed the secret smile on Yuuri’s face next to him as Eva’s grin crept higher and higher, almost despite itself. But Hank kept throwing a wrench in the works, until no one was left smiling. 

His main concern seemed to be Yuuri’s apprenticeship. What exactly was Victor teaching him at the Circle C, and how would it give him better skills for eventually running the Rafter T? Yuuri jumped in and talked about taming the mustangs, which he thought would be a good idea here using Victor’s methods – though when he explained what they were, the light died down in his eyes as Hank said he’d heard about that kind of stuff and nonsense and didn’t set any store by it, which got under Victor’s skin as well, though he said nothing. Yuuri mentioned looking after the horses and cattle, though he couldn’t say anything specific about what he did that he hadn’t already done at the Rafter T. Eventually he mentioned the trick riding and rodeos, but Hank and Eva both frowned upon these things as being more or less useless. By the end of the meal, Yuuri had his eyes permanently cast down, and Victor had forced himself to stay quiet because if he didn’t, he knew he’d say something that would blow the lid off this whole pressure cooker of a situation.

Putting her napkin on the table and getting up, Eva invited Victor into the kitchen, saying that Hank wanted to talk business with Yuuri for a spell. Yuuri watched him leave the room with an unreadable expression, and Victor began to fantasize about whisking him up in his arms and riding away with him on his horse, never to return to this place. He took a very deep breath and flashed his most winning smile at Eva. At least, he discovered, he could clearly hear through the doorway what was being said in the dining room.

“I’ve got a lot of leftovers from today, and from baking for the church,” she began, beginning to bustle around the kitchen. “I know ranch food isn’t the best, so I’ll send you both back with some nice stuff. Now let me see…”

Hank had begun to talk about finances over the past year, but Victor heard Yuuri interrupt him in a low voice. “Dad, now’s not a good time for this. I won’t remember any of it anyway.”

“I’m going on a trip to Chicago next spring, as soon as the weather improves. I want you to come with me – it’ll be good for you to get a better idea of how they operate out there. But you’ll have to be clued up about what’s going on here first.”

“That’s months away. And I’m really busy at the Circle C.”

“Well when the hell _were_ you planning on coming back here, where you belong?”

“ _Dad –_ ”

Victor felt his skin begin to creep. Just then, Eva came over and put a couple of tin boxes and some parcels wrapped in paper on the counter next to him. “There’s cornbread in that tin, and some sourdough muffins – Yuuri’s loved those for years. And in the paper here…”

“…Herb Morrison,” Yuuri was saying. “You remember we used to buy grain from him? I hear his crops have been doing really well, and I think you should put him back on your list of priority suppliers. It’s handy too, his farm being so close to the ranch.”

There was a pause, then: “Sounds good to me. Glad to hear you’re still taking an interest in these things – you act like you couldn’t care less a lot of the time.”

“That’s not true.” Yuuri’s voice was becoming heated. “You know it isn’t – I’ve had a hand in helping you run this ranch for – ”

“The hell it isn’t. Why’d you run away to the Circle C then? My own competitor!”

“Abe isn’t your competitor. He works together with the other ranchers. He’d work together with you, too, if you’d let him.”

Victor hated the fact that Hank was giving Yuuri such a hard time, and on Christmas Day, but he had no idea what to do. That was an unusual situation which he was finding he hated too.

“…cheese,” Eva was saying as if there wasn’t an argument building a few yards away in the next room.

“Pardon?” Victor gave her a blank look.

“I said I’ve wrapped up some cheddar and Mexican manchego cheese for you. They both melt really good if you’ve got the means for cooking. I guess you go camping with the other cowboys sometimes?”

“Um…yes.”

“…wasting your time over there, I’m telling you. What have you accomplished in a whole year?”

“…a couple of pieces of sweet-potato pie, and one of Yuuri’s all-time favorites, chocolate chip cookies.”

“And what’s this trick riding all about? Why should I want my son messing around in some two-bit rodeo? Those things don’t attract respectable people. If I’d known that was what you were going to get up to…”

“…all set for the two of you.” Eva finally had the grace to look flustered. “Hank, for god’s sake, cut him some slack,” she called in an irritated voice. “It’s Christmas, what are you arguing with him for?”

“I’m trying to make him see some sense, Eva, since it looks like he hasn’t since he left the goddamn ranch and went over to join that circus.”

 _Shit_ , was all Victor could think. He had almost no experience of seeing Yuuri angry, but he fully expected him to explode at any moment, like most people would. And it was rare for Victor himself to lose his temper, but it was oh so tempting now. The only thing that held him back from speaking his mind was the certainty that it would only make things worse for Yuuri.

“You think the trick riding has been a waste of time?” he heard Yuuri say, and his words were low and measured. “I’ll tell you what it’s done for me – it _saved my life_. I lost my horse and was about to be trampled by a stampede when Victor over there – that man who you’ve barely said a word to since he walked in the door – slung himself down the side of the saddle, picked me up right off the ground, and lifted me onto his horse. Now you try and tell me again that it’s a useless thing to be able to do.”

Upon hearing this, Eva looked up at Victor in shock. There was silence from the other room. “You saved my Yuuri from a stampede?” she whispered.

Before Victor could respond, Hank said, “Is this true?”

“Of course it’s true – why would I lie about something like that?” Yuuri’s cutting voice answered.

“Then why the hell didn’t anybody tell me? Shouldn’t I know if my own son’s almost been killed?” More silence, then: “What else have you been getting up to over there that I don’t know about?”

 _Oh god,_ Victor thought, feeling sick.

“Nothing,” was Yuuri’s expressionless answer.

Victor was startled by a peck on his cheek, and it took him a moment to work out that Eva was responsible. “Thank you so much for looking after him.” Then she packed the food in a burlap sack, along with a bottle of something or other, and put it on the counter next to him. “I hope you both enjoy all this, once you’re back at the Circle C and things have cooled down. I’m sorry he’s in such a bad mood today.”

 _Bad mood? Is that all it is?_ “Um, that’s very kind of you,” he mumbled. “Thanks.”

“The fact remains,” Hank said, “that if you weren’t at the Circle C in the first place, none of that would have been necessary. You’re the boss’s son – what in god’s name were you doing in front of a herd of cattle? That’s a chuck-line rider’s job.”

“You know, if I stay here any longer, I’m going to say something I’ll regret.” A chair scraped back.

“Fine. But I want you to think about all this. You can’t stay at the Circle C forever. I need you back here soon.”

Yuuri appeared in the kitchen doorway, his cheeks blotched with red. “Mom, we’re going to head back. Thanks for the meal.” He paused, looking at the burlap sack. “What’s that?”

“Just a little care package. Go on, Victor, take it. Yuuri, you know the way out. I’d like to say don’t be a stranger, but well…I think your dad’s going to need some time to settle down.”

“You don’t say.”

As Victor picked up the sack, Yuuri turned to leave, and they passed through the dining room on their way out. Hank was still in his chair but said nothing; neither did Yuuri. Victor looked a thousand daggers at him but held his tongue as well.

They walked in silence a little way from the house, then Victor was the first to talk. “Yuuri – ”

“I know.” He took a breath, then exhaled raggedly. “I know, Victor, and I’m sorry.”

“I told you, you’re not responsible for their behavior.”

“I should never have brought you here.”

“Look – let’s get to the stable, OK?”

Yuuri swallowed and nodded, and they covered the short distance in silence. When they got to the stalls where they’d left their horses, Victor put the sack into his saddlebag and then placed a hand on Yuuri’s arm. “Sweetheart, I feel so bad for you.” Yuuri just stood and blinked, taken aback perhaps by Victor’s choice of words. He continued, “Living with those two all those years…I don’t know how it happened, but you turned out nothing like them. You’re warm, caring, funny, kind…I hate to think of what you must have gone through here.”

Yuuri stared. Amazement was chased away on his face by something akin to grief, and a tear slipped down his cheek. He lunged forward and hugged Victor tightly, and Victor hugged him back. There was a choked sob on his shoulder. They stood that way in silence for a moment.

“I’m sorry I put you through that,” Yuuri eventually said, taking a step back and sniffling. “I won’t do it again. I’m…not even sure I want to put _myself_ through it again.”

“He’s a bully.” Yuuri was silent. “Your mom is a little harder to figure out. But…she thanked me for saving your life.”

Yuuri huffed a small laugh. “Nice of her.”

“I think she gave us some good things to eat and drink.”

“When I’ve got my appetite back, maybe.”

“Yuuri,” Victor said gently, “we’ve got a whole day ahead of us yet. Let’s not let this ruin it. It’s a beautiful Christmas out here – snow around, glittering sunshine, bright blue sky. Why don’t we ride out near the foothills for a while, then go back to the bunkhouse and relax? Put all this behind us.”

Yuuri crossed his arms over his chest and looked down, as if mulling it over. He kicked the toe of his boot idly against the dirt floor.

“And it wasn’t all bad, was it? I liked the part in your bedroom.” He smiled as Yuuri looked up. “A lot.”

Yuuri let out an amused laugh. “You’re really something.” He leaned in for a quick affectionate kiss. “OK. Come on, then – that sounds like just the ticket.” 

***

And it was. Yuuri felt his nerves settling and his worries drifting away as they guided their horses past stands of pine and aspen, along streams and through valleys and canyons. A crust of ice had formed on the few inches of snow that lay on the ground, from the top melting in the day and freezing at night; and though the sounds were muffled through their winter hats, Yuuri could still hear the sharp crunch as hooves broke through it at a steady rhythm. He and Victor said nothing, but there was no need. The serene beauty of the untouched land filtered into Yuuri’s heart and mind, until he could feel its healing touch in his very bones. By the time they had stabled their horses and gotten back to the bunkhouse, it was as if the scene in his parents’ house had been nothing but a bad dream – one of many that he’d put behind him.

They warmed themselves unhurriedly by the stove and exchanged season’s greetings with other men in the bunkhouse; Yuuri could feel the excitement in the air as they awaited the evening’s entertainment at the Wagon Wheel, though for him it would simply be the coda to the wonderful night and morning he’d already shared with Victor and Clarissa. He lounged on his bunk, putting his glasses on and doing some whittling while Victor read his book.

“Hm, this isn’t the most cheerful reading for a holiday,” he said, inserting his bookmark and putting it down. “What are you making today?”

“You can try and guess later when I’m further on with it. If you get it right, I’ll know I’ve improved.” He chuckled as he worked his pocket knife, the shavings falling onto the piece of leather he’d spread across his lap. “And what’s wrong with the book?” Victor told him briefly what had happened in it so far, and about the stark picture of Paris it portrayed. Yuuri paused and started thoughtfully at his block of wood. “Wow. That isn’t how Clarissa described it at all.”

“I guess, like any city, some people live well, some are in difficult circumstances, and some are in between, usually depending on how much money they have. But she’s been away for years, and I expect she misses it, and maybe has kept her best memories alive and embellished them. I haven’t been away from Russia as long, but I know I tend to do that too.”

Yuuri took this in. “That makes sense. She told me…she told me Paris is the world capital of…um, well that it attracts people like you and me. That we’d be accepted there. More so than here, anyway.”

“She’s right, from what I know; though like I said, I haven’t been there myself. But, Yuuri…” He leaned forward and trained his keen blue eyes on him. “…you’re not seriously considering it, are you? I don’t think there are many jobs for horse masters in a city like that. And I wouldn’t want us to end up having to live like the people in my book.”

“Of course not,” Yuuri replied, feeling somewhat prickled by Victor’s assumption of his naiveté, though he had to admit that the notion sometimes entered into his daydreams – always temptingly out of reach, like fireflies flitting over a field when you had no jar to catch them in. “That’s always the problem. Our area of expertise…well, it’s perfect for here. Not so much for other places. But I _like_ what we do, anyway.”

“Me too.” 

“And I like it here.”

“There are certainly worse places to be.”

Yuuri sighed and resumed his whittling. There were never any easy answers, it seemed.

***

“Yuuri, this is beautiful,” Victor gasped, holding up the coat he’d given him. They were standing in Biscuit’s stall in the stable, where Yuuri had hidden Victor’s birthday present. It was made of smooth, soft cream-colored sheepskin and came down to mid-thigh. The cuffs and the opening in the middle were lined with caramel-colored fur, while the fur around the neck and bottom was a coffee shade. It was gathered and flared slightly at the waist, obviously for ease of movement. Yuuri had also given Victor a leather belt to go with it that matched the rich brown fur trim; it seemed necessary to include a belt of some kind, since there were no buttons or hooks or any other devices that would fasten it.

“Go on – try it on,” Yuuri said with a smile.

“Where on earth did you get it?” Victor asked as he took off his duster and heavy coat underneath.

“I met a Canadian fur merchant in town at the beginning of the month.” He left out how he’d been panicking that he’d be unable to find something to give to give to Victor that was as nice as the glasses case – and really this didn’t come close either, because there was nothing special or significant about it. “He said he had some unusual things, and asked me if I’d be interested. Apparently he’d bought this coat off a Ukranian who’d just arrived in the country and was hard up for money. I, um, don’t know where that is, but it looked like something that would suit you.”

Victor’s eyes sparkled as he held the coat up in front of him again, inspecting it. “The Ukraine is just to the west of Russia. I had a coat like this when I was a little boy.” He sounded delighted, and Yuuri’s heart gave a leap – at least he’d chosen well. “Yuuri,” Victor added, his tone suddenly admonishing, “how much did you spend on this?”

His cheeks went pink. “No more than I could afford. Anyway, how does it feel?”

Victor had put it on and was buckling the belt. “It feels _luxurious_. Warm, soft, comfortable…perfect.” He put his ushanka on next, and laughed. “Maybe now I really could pass as a Cossack warrior. I’d just need to get my swords out.”

Yuuri just stared. “You look magnificent,” he breathed.

Seeming to be momentarily taken aback by the lavish praise, a smile suddenly spread across Victor’s face, and he stepped forward and caressed Yuuri’s face. “Thank you.”

“I wanted to give you something as special as what you gave me, but I couldn’t think of anything – ”

“ _Everything_ you give me is special, Yuuri. Every day we’re together. I’m so glad I met you.”

Yuuri’s throat hitched. At a loss for words, his heart full to bursting, he wrapped his arms around Victor’s neck and kissed him until time seemed to stand still and it felt like they were the only two people in existence.


	37. Chapter 37

_Warm me with your heat,_  
_melt me with your fire._  
_For I am what you seek,_  
_you are what I desire._

_Styles_

 

Yuuri got more enjoyment out of going to the Wagon Wheel that night than he’d expected, possibly because he’d had a very up-and-down day and was ready to unwind, and possibly because he had a satisfying fill of drink there. After catching up with men from the Rafter T, including Phichit, and dancing and singing Christmas carols, no doubt horribly off-key, he had a merry ride out of town with Victor, Chris, Zach and Phichit, the latter two waving and hollering goodbye when they arrived at the turn-off to the Rafter T. Yuuri was very glad he didn’t have to go down that way himself. And though he and Victor had played with the idea earlier of rounding off the night with some time in a bedroll next to a campfire, it was simply out of the question, both of them agreeing that they were tired and full and half-drunk, and simply longing for their bunks and the warmth from the stove. There would be other opportunities.

The following week was an enjoyable end to the year, the weather being mild enough to melt the snow, and Yuuri and Victor tucked into the food and drink that Eva had given them. They shared some around the bunkhouse too, though Yuuri felt the waistband of his pants getting a little tight after all the festivity, and he decided it was time to get back to normal with things and put in some extra exercise. He offered to take the place of a couple of ranch hands on the firewood-chopping rota, for one thing, and they were more than happy to oblige. Somehow Victor didn’t seem to need to worry about such things – whatever he ate, his abdomen was always like a washboard.

January passed much as it had the year before, though Yuuri and Victor were practicing more together now at the stable than they had then, either trick riding or working out. A couple of times they built a campfire and shared a bedroll next to it for a few hours early in the night, but it was getting difficult now – despite the fact that they were used to working outside all day – with several inches of snow on the ground most of the time, and temperatures dropping steeply after the sun went down. Eventually they agreed they would try to be patient and wait a few more months until spring arrived. In the meantime they snatched private moments in buildings around the ranch, and carried on with the usual chores. Victor wore his new coat when they rode out to tend the cattle, which drew many admiring remarks, and he told Yuuri he’d never owned anything that had kept him so wonderfully warm.

He needed it when February arrived, and with it a cold snap the likes of which they hadn’t seen in Larkspur for many a year. There was no snow to accompany it, though enough was already on the ground; instead, this was a deep, dry, vicious freeze that would lacerate any exposed area of skin within minutes. Abe Connor had told the ranch hands to stay in the bunkhouse on a couple of occasions, rather than go outside and risk frostbite, even bundled up in their warmest clothes. When the wind blew down off the mountains, it was like being chafed by a whip. Most of the time it seemed impossible to get warm, with fingers of draft creeping through the chinks in the walls and the heat from the little stove failing to reach into the far corners of the bunkhouse.

Yuuri and Victor aimed for a stoical acceptance during their hours in the stable, keeping their coats and gloves on when they exercised, but the bulky extra clothing made it a challenge. Then, when they’d worked up a sweat by doing this over several days and wanted to wash their clothes, that was difficult too when most of the water to be had was frozen. Nor could they do anything together in private that required exposing very much skin at all, certainly not in sensitive places. Fingers and lips were chapped and icy, ears and noses numb, eyes watering in the biting air.

One morning Yuuri arrived at the stable later than usual, having stayed behind in the cook shack to talk with Hajimu. The powdery snow scattered and puffed around his bootfalls, and his breath reminded him of the cloud he used to exhale when he smoked a quirly. There wasn’t even any sun to warm things a touch today, the land lidded with a steel-grey sky that promised, if not more snow, then no immediate end to the bitter winter weather.

Upon entering the building, Yuuri saw Victor in Luchik’s stall, his black-gloved hands brushing the white mane as he cooed in Russian. His cheeks were pink, his blue eyes shining; and Yuuri still enjoyed staring at him shamelessly in his new coat, which suited him so well it could have been designed just for him. The pale sheepskin complemented his hair and light complexion, adding to the ethereal look he always had about him. Yuuri remained quiet for a few minutes, simply savoring the moment as Victor cheerfully went about his task. Eventually, however, Victor seemed to sense that he was being watched, and turned around.

“Yuuri – good morning!” he called.

Yuuri smiled fondly. “Hi.” His breath came out as an icy fog.

“Is the weather looking any better out there? They were saying snow for later. That won’t be good if we’ve got to go out and move the cattle.” He put his brush down and exited the stall, coming to stand next to Yuuri and leaning his arms on the gate that led out to the corral.

“I don’t like the look of it. Feels like we’re stuck in an ice box.”

“I know what you mean.”

Yuuri moved to stand behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist, clasping his gloved hands together. “We might have to try to warm each other up,” he said, then leaned his chin on Victor’s shoulder.

“Hm, I’d like that – but it’s a pretty tall order at the moment. Even by Russian standards, it’s cold out here.”

Despite that fact, Yuuri felt heat surge from his chest to his groin as he took in Victor’s scent and hugged him close, the sheepskin soft and insulating, like sinking into a warm bath. Reluctant for a moment to move, he eventually pulled his arms away from Victor to unbutton his own coat, then hooked a finger into Victor’s fur collar and pulled it down, brushing his lips over the nape of his neck, his other hand slipping back to Victor’s waist. Yuuri felt him shudder and slap a hand over his own, giving it a squeeze.

Standing on tiptoe, Yuuri reached up to mouth the shell of Victor’s ear, then nipped at his earlobe and whispered, “I wonder if you want me as much as I want you right now.” He lifted the back of Victor’s coat, bunching it up between them, and pressed his erection against his ass. Victor’s breath hissed out. It was getting easier to be bold like this, and Yuuri loved the effect it had on Victor.

“You minx,” he breathed, manhandling Yuuri further back into the stable until they entered Luchik’s stall. Their eyes blazed into each other’s as they pulled their gloves off and Victor unbuckled the belt around his coat, which fell open. “The answer to that question is yes.” He put an arm either side of Yuuri to brace himself against the back wall, then ground his hips against Yuuri’s, who bucked his own in eager response, and lifted one foot and pinned it against the wall for more leverage. Victor’s coat was draped over them both, trapping a delicious warmth inside. Their lips desperately sought each other’s, opening when they touched so that their tongues could circle and caress and tangle. Yuuri’s hands roamed over Victor’s back, then slipped past his clothing to knead his ass, both of them making soft, throaty moans and gasps. It was the first time they had done this during the seemingly interminable cold snap, and it didn’t take long for their need to blaze up into a passion that quickly reached its climax, Yuuri alternately crying out praises and swearing in a voice whose volume he tried hard to keep low, while Victor breathed responses against his neck, groaning his name as he came.

“ _Aishiteru_ …Vitya,” Yuuri whispered, stroking the back of Victor’s head as the blood surging in his veins began to quieten.

“ _Ya lyublyu tyebya._ ” Victor smoothed Yuuri’s bangs back from his face, but he looked troubled.

“What is it?” Yuuri asked softly.

Victor paused, then said, “This…isn’t enough. I…” He swallowed as Yuuri looked at him in surprise. “It’s driving me crazy. I have to have you,” he finished raggedly.

“I enjoy everything we do,” Yuuri said, brushing his hand down Victor’s cheek. “But yeah, I get frustrated too. I don’t know what we can do, though.” He smirked. “I’m _not_ taking us back to my parents’ house just so we can sneak into my room for a while. I don’t think I’ll ever be that desperate.”

“No,” Victor said with a hoarse chuckle. “And I love just being with you, too. But…” He dropped his voice. “…when one of us is inside the other, it really feels special to me. Like we’re as close as we can be.”

Yuuri’s cock gave a twitch, despite being spent. “I feel the same.”

“There _must_ be something.” He closed his eyes in thought, and then they opened wide. “The Gold Nugget Hotel,” he said, as if suddenly struck by inspiration.

Yuuri looked at him quizzically. “A hotel?”

“In Abilene – you know where that is?”

“About ten miles away, in the foothills. I think it’s mainly miners and prospectors who stop there on their way to and from the mountains, isn’t it? Clarissa said she used to do shows there. I’ve never had any reason to go there myself, though.”

“Well you do now. Chris told me about it – he’s been there with Zach once or twice.”

“Victor, we can’t just lark off to a hotel. It costs – and Abe’s already been pretty generous with the number of days he’s let us have off.”

“I’ve got a way with Abe; I bet I can wangle a Saturday out of him. And as for cost, you let me worry about that.”

Yuuri frowned in thought. “Hey, let’s get changed out of these clothes.” He gently pulled away from Victor and went to Biscuit’s neighboring stall, where he gave his horse an affectionate pat on her neck and then pulled clean drawers and pants from a bag. Changing clothes in cold this pervasive was an unpleasant business, but they both made quick work of it. How to do the laundry was a matter that could be left for later.

“Victor,” Yuuri said quietly, leaning on the wall between Biscuit’s stall and Luchik’s and watching Victor pull his pants and boots on, “that might have been OK when we were getting to know each other, but maybe we ought to be a bit more…open with each other now. What do you think?”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“About where the money’s coming from. I don’t want to pry, but…well, you bought me my saddle, and you wanted to pay for the boarding house in Fort McKinley, and now you want to take me to a hotel. Not that I’m questioning your means for paying for it all…it’s just…” His cheeks pinked as he struggled to find words.

“It’s a lot.” Victor looked at him kindly as he pulled his second boot on.

“Well, I guess so. Thinking about what most guys get paid on ranches. Even ones with a lot of expertise.”

“There’s an easy answer for that. I’ve won some over the years from rodeos. But mostly there’s the money I inherited from my parents when they died, which I put in some banks over here. I dip into it now and then, and I reckon it’ll last me a while.”

“Ah.”

“What about you?” Victor asked him, keeping the tone conversational. “Anyone who can buy a coat as amazing as this gets more than a cowboy’s pay, am I right?”

“Yeah, well…I’ve got some rodeo prize money now too. And Abe gives me a token apprentice’s salary, though my dad also sends me some money every month. I told him I didn’t want it, but he insisted.”

“A fine thing, to be given money you’ve said you don’t want,” Victor said, sounding amused. “But having met him, I can see where you’re coming from.” He stood up and went over to Yuuri. “I guess we’re luckier than most of the guys who work in these kinds of places, which is worth remembering.”

“That’s true.”

Victor smiled and playfully flicked the end of Yuuri’s nose. “So. About that hotel.” 

***

True to his word, Victor had somehow persuaded Abe to let them have a Saturday off a couple of weeks later. Cramming an extra day’s chores into the Friday, they left the ranch late and ended up journeying partially in the dark, but Yuuri didn’t mind; temperatures had risen back to normal – which was cold, but not unbearably so – and their horses were keen-eyed and sure-footed. There was snow covering the land, but they took a road that experienced regular traffic and so was clear enough to see much of the time; each of them had hooked a lantern on their saddle that spilled a faint illumination like moonlight onto the white surface.

Yuuri thought about the morning that had given rise to the idea of traveling out here, and felt his heart flutter. Before he’d met Victor, he’d never realized that it was possible to climax just from pressure and friction against someone else, but it had quickly become one of his favorite things to do. Maybe it wasn’t quite the same with clothes on, but it sure was handy that you _could_ keep them on when you needed to; they provided heat and concealment that had come in useful on numerous occasions. A couple of times that winter, he and Victor had been busy in that way with each other in the stable when someone had come in, but they’d broken apart in plenty of time to make it appear that they were simply tending to one of their horses in its stall. They smiled knowingly at each other, trying to find the humor in it, though the possibility of getting caught in the middle of a compromising situation still crept into Yuuri’s nightmares occasionally. His stomach gave a nervous flip whenever he thought about the time he went down on Victor in the stable last summer, knowing anyone could have walked in on them. He remembered feeling a reckless sense of power, similar to standing as far as possible on the edge of a cliff without falling, and then quickly jumping back. Something had shifted for him since then, though. Now it felt more important to protect what he and Victor shared, and not take stupid risks.

He still had to remind himself of that sometimes, however, because the intensity of his desire for Victor, which was seemingly reciprocated, meant that they could end up feeling desperate just when warmth and privacy were at a premium. So maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to visit a hotel for a couple of nights, if they had the means. It seemed an extravagant temporary solution to their frustrations – but one that might nevertheless be romantic, indulgent, and fun. It was still the height of luxury just to think about sharing a bed.

Abilene was a noisy, bustling town on a Friday night, even in the middle of February. It seemed to be overwhelmingly populated by men dressed in working clothes who were patronizing saloons, dance halls, and other places of entertainment. Yuuri and Victor left their horses in the livery, then walked the short distance to the Gold Nugget Hotel, both of them marveling at the bright gas lights that lined the way. The hotel stood on the main street, which was still busy at this time of night as carriages wheeled through gray slush; large lanterns were ensconced on either side of the entrance. The building itself was a large boxy-looking affair with horizontal brown-painted planks, and the rooms opened through French windows onto sizeable balconies with white wooden balustrades.

After they signed in, Yuuri gratefully inhaled the welcome aroma of well-cooked food wafting out of the dining room as they passed by on their way upstairs to their room. Once inside, they put their bags on the floor, pushed their beds together, and looked around. It was more spacious than Ma Barker’s, and the beds were bigger; a small cast-iron stove stood against the wall, radiating warmth, with a good stock of firewood in a rack to the side. In front of it was a tin bathtub.

“Victor – I didn’t expect a fireplace _or_ a tub,” Yuuri enthused.

“How else did you think the room would be heated? I’ve had enough of skulking around cold ranch buildings; I wasn’t about to do the same in a hotel.” He smiled. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s fantastic. I could spend the whole weekend in here.”

Victor looked at him with hooded lids. “That’s not a bad idea – with a few breaks for meals.”

Yuuri smiled and stroked his cheek. “Come on, then. I’m starving.”

As they passed the desk, Victor asked for a hot bath to be drawn while they were eating. The dining room was mostly empty when they arrived, due to the late hour; most of the guests seemed to have removed themselves to the saloon room. The food was the usual western fare – meat and vegetables and pie, washed down with a good strong cup of Arbuckle’s. But Yuuri was distracted with other things. Victor’s legs brushing against his own. His boot running up and down his calf. His roaming hands, which got more adventurous when no one was left in the dining room except for themselves.

Yuuri tried to get revenge as best he could. There wasn’t any finger food they could feed each other with, nor were there any suggestively shaped tidbits he could make a show of eating, so he simply cut his steak up and pretended that the next morsel was the most incredible thing that had ever passed his lips. He closed his eyes and moaned softly as he fed the fork slowly into his mouth, then sucked it gently as he pulled it out, slanting a glance at Victor. He looked transfixed. Yuuri did this a few more times, then decided to try something else. After making sure there was still no one around, he took Victor’s hand and raised it to his lips. While stroking his thumb slowly across Victor’s fingers, he mouthed feather-light kisses across the back of his hand, glancing up again with dark eyes.

The expression on Victor’s face had turned into something altogether hungrier, and Yuuri felt a spark of power. Really, this was too much fun – and it was only fair, since Victor had been provoking him, after all. Besides, he’d never realized how sexy a hand could be. He grasped it and turned it palm up, pressing his lips against Victor’s wrist and scraping his teeth lightly across. He was rewarded with a small gasp – so Yuuri wasn’t the only one who was sensitive there. That was good to know. He ran his lips over Victor’s palm and on to the end of his middle finger, which he flicked with the tip of his tongue and then gently sucked with a sigh.

“God, Yuuri,” Victor said in a choked voice.

Yuuri quirked a smile, then took more of the finger in and repeated the actions he’d used on the fork, keeping eye contact with Victor. It was quickly kindling a fire inside of him. Strange how he’d never realized when he was younger how much sensation and pleasure could be evoked with lips and tongue and teeth – not just in the other person, but in himself as well as he tasted and touched and teased.  

“I – I want you upstairs,” Victor gasped out. “Now would be good.”

“Come on then, Vitya,” Yuuri said, giving him a smoldering look as he stood, still holding his hand, which he pulled as they left the table together, their meals half-eaten.

They barely made it through the doorway before they crushed together, Yuuri’s back hitting the wall as hands clutched and pulled at clothing while their mouths searched each other’s out and alternately joined firmly and parted. Yuuri felt dizzy as the urgency built between them. He ached to remove every last scrap of clothing from Victor as quickly as possible and pull him on top of him on the bed, but then he remembered the bath, and caught a glimpse of it steaming invitingly in front of the stove.

“Victor,” he breathed, “the bath is ready over there. It’d…be a shame…to waste it.”

Victor looked at him for a moment as if he’d said something in another language. Then he seemed to come to himself. “You’re right. We’ll have to take turns, though.”

“You go first,” Yuuri said with a glint in his eyes and a mischievous smile. “I’ll help, if you like.”

“That sounds lovely,” Victor whispered against his hair.

He was able to fit comfortably in the tub with his knees propped up, and Yuuri savored the sighs of contentment he heard as he dipped the sponge into the soapy water and massaged Victor’s back with it, pausing to place kisses where he’d cleaned. He was surprised at how deeply calm the whole process made him feel – the light trickling noises of the warm water, the gentle glide across Victor’s skin, the tendrils of steam that curled up in front of the stove, all under the low yellow glow of the glass oil lamp next to the bed. He softly kissed the wet hair above Victor’s ear. “I’d love to do this for you every night.”

“Believe me, I wouldn’t complain,” Victor whispered back, giving him a blissful grin.

Yuuri longed to be able to do something more sensual, like wrap his fingers around Victor’s cock and stroke it, but the bath was too cramped to make it practical. That was where bathing in the cool but capacious river had its advantage. Never mind, though – they had all night, and the next, in their very own room.

 When Victor was done, Yuuri took his turn, and Victor did the same for him with the sponge. He luxuriated in the warm water; something he hadn’t felt since the last time he’d paid to have a bath at the barber’s shop weeks ago in town when he and Victor had been in the mood to treat themselves. They’d spent several days in the saddle on the cold open range, and had been exercising conscientiously in the stable, and it had felt like the natural thing to do. The people who lived near hot springs were incredibly lucky, he thought, and he longed to visit such a place himself one day. He knew there were some in Wyoming, but they might as well be on a different planet, as far away as they were.

He hummed in contentment as Victor ran the sponge over his chest. “You’re so beautiful, Yuuri,” he murmured. It still jarred Yuuri to hear him say that. “I wonder if you’ll let me do something for you when you get out. I think you’ll like it.”

Yuuri had heard those last few words from Victor on numerous occasions by now, and it hadn’t taken him long to come to trust that they’d be almost invariably correct. He wondered idly what Victor had in mind as he finished his soak, then stood and toweled himself off. Victor had gone to lie down on the bed, his nude body gleaming in the lamplight. Yuuri stared as if at a painting of some erotic scene from a myth – perhaps Zeus preparing to seduce a maiden – until he heard him say, “Come here, sweetheart.”

Yuuri climbed onto the bed next to him, and they shared a long, lingering kiss. He swept a hand over the planes and angles of Victor’s chest, stroking each rosy nipple until it peaked, then cupping his cheek and licking into his mouth. Victor made a throaty noise.

“You’re incredibly distracting, you know that?”

“Good,” Yuuri answered, smiling at him, inches from his lips.

“Will you lie on your back for me here while I put some pillows underneath you?” When Yuuri looked at him quizzically, he added, “You know what I’ve always said – just tell me to stop if you don’t like something I’m doing. OK? I mean it.” He stroked a hand through his hair.

Yuuri gave him the ghost of a grin and nodded. Soon his ass was lewdly propped up on a couple of pillows, with Victor kneeling between his legs. If they hadn’t been lovers for months, and if he didn’t trust Victor as much as he did, he was sure he wouldn’t have had the courage to go through with this, whatever it was; displaying himself in this way would be too mortifying. Even so, he was finding it difficult to keep his nerves steady.

“Shhhh, just relax, baby,” Victor whispered, watching his face. He came forward and lowered himself so that he was propped on an elbow, and gently kissed Yuuri’s forehead, then found his lips. Yuuri sighed into the familiar heat of his mouth, and moaned as Victor broke away to place more open-mouthed kisses on his jaw, neck and collarbone, gradually working his way down. There was a brief suck on the tip of his cock, then Victor took it in hand and slowly began to stroke. Yuuri bucked his hips.

“That’s it,” Victor whispered before ducking his head.     

What he did next was something Yuuri had never imagined one person would do to another. He gasped and his eyes shot open wide as he felt Victor’s tongue glide from the crease of his ass, across his entrance, and over his balls. He repeated the action a few more times, then focused his ministrations on the tight ring of muscle, swirling and moving his tongue up and down. Yuuri felt frozen initially as he took in what was happening – the new, strange, utterly taboo nature of it. But he was clean, he reminded himself, and Victor had _wanted_ to do this, and…it didn’t feel bad at all. In fact, if he could let himself relax…

Victor continued to squeeze and stroke his cock as his tongue massaged him in his most intimate place, and he let out a moan. Victor looked up. “Are you OK, baby?” he asked.

Yuuri nodded, wishing he could touch Victor somehow, but he was too far away, doing outrageous things to him. He’d already discovered how sensitive that area was, but having it tongued like that was a whole new level of sensation. As Yuuri sighed and opened himself up to it, he felt jolts of pleasure race through his body. Victor continued to work without pause, and soon Yuuri was fisting the sheets, straining to keep his hips still as little noises spilled from his lips. Victor’s rhythm on his cock faltered and he stopped stroking it but continued to hold it, and Yuuri thought he heard soft moans coming from him. He angled his head for a glance past his legs and, just as he felt the stiff tip of Victor’s tongue stab into him, saw that he had a hand wrapped around his own cock and was stroking it firmly. It was too much for Yuuri, and he threw his head back, crying out and pulling himself from the brink with a desperate effort. Victor continued his merciless assault, clearly intending for them both to come in this way.

“Victor, I…oh _god_ …” Yuuri panted, struggling for coherence. “That feels amazing. But…please, I want…to do something different, before…” He broke off.

Victor paused and straightened, his hair mussed, cheeks glowing, lips parted. He looked like sin embodied. Yuuri just stared before he could find more words. “Sit up on the edge of the bed,” he spluttered.

Victor did so, his blue eyes following Yuuri as he got up and circled around to stand in front of him. Getting his breath back, Yuuri put a hand on each of Victor’s warm cheeks and gazed at him intently for a moment, then leaned over and kissed him hard. Victor sighed into it and placed a hand on either side of his neck. After a moment Yuuri broke off and dropped to his knees, nudging Victor’s legs open and shifting forward. With a quick, sultry glance upward, Yuuri took him in hand, pumping him hard and sucking at the same time.

Victor’s head tilted back and he spoke Yuuri’s name on a sudden exhale, reaching a hand down to rake through his hair. Yuuri was surprised and thrilled by how fast he was coming undone; he must have been close himself just a few minutes ago. The hand that was taking Victor’s weight on the bed slid backward so that he was leaning in that direction rather than sitting up straight, and he thrust his hips upward into Yuuri’s mouth, groaning. Yuuri grabbed his own aching cock and pulled on it.

“T-together,” Victor gasped. “Let’s…” He sat up, swallowing. His chest was heaving, and he looked at Yuuri with bright eyes. “Let’s do this together,” he finally managed to say.

Yuuri pulled away, wondering what he had in mind. He watched as Victor backed up onto the joined beds so that he was lying on his side, and indicated for Yuuri to clamber over. “Lie next to me, facing me, in reverse – our feet pointing in opposite directions,” he said. Uncertainly, Yuuri followed his instructions, so that he was staring at Victor’s abdomen.

“If you’re not sure what to do, just follow my lead,” Victor said in a hoarse voice. “Though I doubt that’ll be necessary.” He shifted forward, and Yuuri gasped as he felt the velvet warmth of Victor’s mouth enfold his cock.

“Oh, god – Victor,” he choked out, realizing what Victor intended, and wondering how much more he could take before he came undone himself. Yet again, this was something that had never crossed his mind before, though if he’d thought about it he might have come up with it as being theoretically possible. Victor was full of surprises tonight, and Yuuri was loving it.

Ignoring the distraction of Victor’s mouth as best he could for now, which was a tall order, he sidled the upper part of his body toward Victor and grabbed his cock, licking a stripe from root to tip. Victor shuddered, and Yuuri felt the vibrations of his moan around him. He echoed it as he worked his mouth up and down, reaching a hand around to knead Victor’s balls. Victor gasped and did the same to Yuuri as his movements sped up.   

Yuuri knew he wouldn’t last long, but he tried as hard as he could to resist the urge to buck his hips and find release. As each copied what the other did, they discovered more about what gave each of them the most pleasure, the response in one evoking a reaction in the other, like a loop of electricity that kept growing in intensity. Yuuri didn’t want it to end, but Victor was too clever with his hands and mouth, and the sounds he was making were practically driving him mad.

“Victor…I’m close,” he gasped as he pulled off, still stroking him with a fist.

“Me too,” he heard Victor respond. “It’s OK. Give it to me, baby.”

Yuuri moaned and his cock twitched. As Victor took him back in his mouth, he did the same in return, but could barely concentrate. He felt his body tense and begin to shake, and then he was hit with a wave of the most incredible, exquisite pleasure. He pulled his mouth away from Victor and cried out again and again as he was rocked by the sensation.

Yuuri swore silently as the aftershocks rippled through him. He hadn’t known it was possible to come so hard, and he felt dazed. But there was still Victor to think of. Regaining his senses somewhat, he sank his mouth back onto him and resumed where he’d left off a moment before. Having finished with Yuuri, Victor was free now to be more vocal. He rested his head against his arm and put a hand on Yuuri’s thigh, urging him on with breathy praises and pleas. Remembering what Victor had done to him earlier, a wonderfully wicked idea popped into his head. He paused in what he was doing long enough to slick a finger in his mouth, then reached behind Victor’s balls and found his entrance, pushing his finger slightly inside with a sudden gentle jab at the same time as he gave Victor’s cock a hard, lingering suck with a little scrape of teeth.

It had the desired effect. Victor came explosively, shouting out as he arced his back and bucked his hips. Yuuri helped him ride through it, savoring the satisfaction of knowing he’d been able to reciprocate what Victor had done for him. When Victor sank back with a groan, his body going limp, Yuuri pulled away and turned around on the bed so that they were face to face again.

“If the rest of the weekend’s going to be like this, I’m going to need a second little vacation just to rest up,” Yuuri purred playfully, running a finger over Victor’s collarbone. Victor gave a low laugh and pulled him close.


	38. Chapter 38

Yuuri sipped his coffee and turned his head to look out the window of the dining room. The sun was shining bright, and the street outside was busy. He wondered what they would find if they ventured outside today to have a look around the town. It must be a prosperous place if it had gas lighting, he thought.

He’d been enjoying a late breakfast with Victor, both of them having spent a leisurely morning in their room making love and cuddling and basking in the luxury of having a room to themselves. They were well on target to follow Victor’s suggestion of not straying out apart from eating meals, but truth be told, neither wanted to be shut up inside all day. Part of Yuuri could happily stay in bed tangled up with Victor, but another part was curious about where they were and was keen to explore.

“You said Chris and Zach came here?” he said between sips of coffee.

Victor nodded. “I think maybe they had the same idea as us. Chris said they had fun.”

Yuuri huffed a laugh. “I bet they did.”

“Well, not only in that way. They went into the town too; apparently they found a dance hall that was full of men doing couples dances, no women at all.”

“Oh?” Yuuri raised an eyebrow.

“You know, the way it happens on the ranch or even at hoedowns sometimes. If there aren’t many women around to dance with, men either dance with other men, or they don’t dance.”

“That’s true. I’m glad when it happens, because it means I can dance with you and no one questions it.”

Victor sipped his coffee thoughtfully. “I think there’s more to it than that sometimes. Men on ranches or in mining camps – like the ones near here – get a little friendly sometimes.” He smiled. “As you know. I’m not sure if it’s because they’re attracted to places like that, where they can be with other men, or because it’s simply an option when there are no women. Maybe a little of both.”

Yuuri looked at him from over the rim of his mug, wondering how far he was talking from experience, then quickly decided he still wasn’t ready to ask – maybe Victor wanted to keep it private anyway. “I’ve heard Chris mention that people are more relaxed about it on the ranch than they are in town.”

“He’s right, of course. You can come across all kinds of surprises on a ranch. In fact, there are women who pass for cowboys too. Some of them can live their whole lives like that and no one’s ever the wiser.”

“Really?” Yuuri looked at him in surprise.

“Really. I even slept with one once to find out what it was like.”

Yuuri spat out his mouthful of coffee and Victor chuckled. Staring in shock, he thought he read a few things in those blue eyes. _I’m telling you the truth._ And, _Ask me about it._ Then, to his relief, _But it’s OK if you don’t_. That was the option he chose.

Victor reached out and took his hand. “Coming here has already been worthwhile. I couldn’t be happier, Yuuri.” His eyes sparkled. “What would you like to do today?”

Yuuri told him about his desire to see the town, and Victor admitted he shared it. After breakfast they had a wander around the boardwalks, looking through shop windows and stopping in a few. The main general store was massive, selling just about everything people traveling into or out of the mountains could want, from dry food provisions to winter clothes to shovels and pickaxes and nails. Victor was pleased to discover some rose-scented shaving soap. Yuuri was on the lookout for some kind of finger food he and Victor could take turns feeding each other in their room; but failing to find any small pieces of fruit, or light snacks like popcorn, he opted for a small box of chocolates, which sounded romantic anyway.

Just as they were about to leave, Victor spotted a display against the wall near the door that they’d missed when they’d come in. Folded neatly on several shelves were pairs of pants under a hand-painted sign that said, “Levi’s Jeans. Hard-wearing & Durable Clothing for the Working Man.”

“I’ve heard about these,” Victor enthused, picking up a pair and feeling the thick material. “They’re the latest thing.”

“Thing?” Yuuri took a pair also and held them against his waist. They were heavy, and he noticed they were adorned with copper rivets in places such as the pockets. “This is like what miners wear…only blue?”

“They’d be great for cowboys too, don’t you think?”

“Well maybe. Like the sign says, they’d be hard-wearing. But for what you and I do? There’s no stretch. We couldn’t work out in them.”

“So we wear the usual pants for that. These could maybe be for ranch chores or riding in.”

Yuuri laughed. “You really like them, do you?”

“I’ll buy you a pair. Let’s make sure they’re a good, tight fit.” He lifted an eyebrow.

“Oh.” A blush spread across Yuuri’s cheeks. “All right – only if you get a pair, too.”

They walked out with a pair of jeans each, Yuuri feeling amused at the idea of both of them putting them on at some point and ogling each other. Though when he thought about it, he supposed they might end up looking pretty sexy. They did a little more sightseeing around the town, but finding nothing else that caught their interest, decided to return to the hotel. After a drink in the saloon, which was busy for lunch, they went back to their room, where they shared some of the chocolates Yuuri had bought. Victor placed one between Yuuri’s teeth, then leaned forward and bit the other half off in a kiss. It tasted of cocoa, and Victor, and desire.

The next several hours passed in a haze of gasps and moans, bare skin, tangled limbs, kisses and thrusts, caresses and whispers of love. It felt to Yuuri, with the golden sunlight diffusing through the gauzy white drapes hanging over the French windows, that he was moving in a dream where Victor and sex, love and contentment all blended in the warmth and brightness of the room – yesterday, and today, and tomorrow, and forever if he wanted it. And when the light of the afternoon faded to a pink and orange glow and then went out altogether, they lit the oil lamp next to the beds, but otherwise paid extraneous things no mind – apart from taking an occasional dip in the bath, which they’d ordered earlier in the afternoon and used as the need arose, even though it had long since cooled to room temperature.

Eventually they both got dressed and went outside on the balcony, which was on the side of the hotel facing the mountains rather than the main street. The sun had gone down and only a touch of twilight now lingered, purple above the dark shadows of the peaks, though a bright full moon silvered the snow patches on the hills. They were wearing their old woolen pants, having tried the jeans on and liking the look of them so much on each other that the next round of lovemaking, whichever number it was by now, had been prompted, and the jeans removed just as readily after a lot of grabbing and kneading. Yuuri had never put himself through a day’s workout quite like this; hadn’t known he’d even be up to it. He felt full of bliss, pleasantly exhausted, a little sore, and hungry for a good meal. Despite his earlier determination to enjoy the delights of Abilene, he’d ended up spending most of his time in the hotel enjoying Victor after all, he thought amusedly; but he certainly didn’t regret it.

Victor had moved to stand behind him, and wrapped his arms around his waist. Both had slipped their coats on, unfastened, to catch a glimpse of the night and get some fresh air. “This has been a day I’ll never forget, _lyubov moya_ ,” he whispered, kissing the back of Yuuri’s neck.

Yuuri put his hands over Victor’s and squeezed. “I love you too,” he said quietly, his breath coming out in a cloudy puff. “So much it hurts sometimes.”

Silently, Victor brushed a kiss over the top of his ear, tightening his hold around his waist. “It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?”

Yuuri smiled. “Sure it is. And it looks a hell of a lot prettier when you’re not freezing your ass off herding cows all day long.” Victor laughed and kissed his hair.

They had beef stew and biscuits for dinner in the dining room shortly afterward; then Yuuri spotted a cluster of posters pinned to a noticeboard near the hotel desk in the lobby and cast an eye over them. One of them caught his attention; it was an advertisement for evening performances at a theater that included a variety of acts. When Victor joined him and looked at the poster himself, he said it sounded like fun, so they departed for the Fairfield Theater further down the main street toward the center of town.

It was a sizeable place, seating 500 people or so; Larkspur didn’t have anything comparable. They arrived in plenty of time and joined the growing crowd milling around, buying themselves beer and popcorn and finding a couple of good seats inside. The evening’s entertainment began with a man shooting apples off his wife’s head with his revolver, which Yuuri found both astounding and worrying. Next a woman claiming to be a psychic medium told several volunteers’ fortunes with a crystal ball, predicting where they’d find gold nearby. Yuuri and Victor both raised their eyebrows skeptically. This was followed by acrobats, a contortionist, comedians and song-and-dance routines, all of varying quality but generally pretty good, Yuuri thought. The show ended with a singalong, and Yuuri found himself standing up next to Victor and singing “Oh Susanna”, “The Streets of Laredo”, and “The Yellow Rose of Texas” along with the rest of the audience. They both agreed that it had been an enjoyable, rather unique way to spend an evening, and were discussing what their favorite acts had been as they did their coats up and exited into the cold night.  

“I still don’t like to think what might have happened if that gunslinger missed his aim – you know, the first act we saw,” Yuuri was saying as they made their way along the boardwalk. “That’s a dangerous thing to do just to entertain an audience.” When there was no response from Victor, he glanced to the side. Victor had stopped and was staring intently down a street that formed a T-junction with the one they were on. Yuuri didn’t see anything unusual himself in that direction; just people coming and going under the gas lights. When he looked again at Victor, he appeared agitated.

“What is it?” he asked in concern.

“I…thought I recognized someone,” he replied distractedly.

As Yuuri peered down the road, he saw a slim, haggard-looking man staring back at them. Though he was a distance away, Yuuri observed that his black woolen coat was old and worn, and he wore heavy leather work boots that were practically falling apart. His auburn hair fell in tousled ringlets to his collar, his chin was covered with several days’ stubble, and his turquoise eyes seemed to pierce through the night; they were over-bright and stood out against sharp, drawn features. Whoever he was, it was obvious that life had not treated him kindly of late.  

“Victor?” Yuuri asked quietly.

“Uh…Yuuri, maybe you’d better go back to the hotel. I’ll meet you in the room later.”

Yuuri just looked at him for a moment.

“Please,” he added earnestly, anxiety etching his features.

“Sure, OK,” Yuuri said, his stomach tightening into a knot as he returned by himself. Once there, he asked at the desk for a new bath to be drawn, then stoked the stove after entering the room and removing his coat.

He spent the next hour and a half soaking in the bath, dozing, and doing some whittling that he’d pulled out of his bag, glad that he’d thought to bring it in case he had a bit of time to spare. He wanted to keep busy, because otherwise he was tempted to speculate about who the mysterious man with the haunted look was, and why Victor had been so upset when he’d seen him. But finally he struggled to concentrate on anything at all, putting the whittling away and opening the little door in the front of the stove, staring into the crackling flames and willing himself to be calm. Maybe he’d simply have to try to get some sleep. But where was Victor?

Not long afterward, the door to the room opened and there he was, looking grave as he hung his coat on a hook and sat down on the end of the bed. He sighed as he stared forward, warming his hands in front of the stove. Clearly he’d been badly shaken. Yuuri longed to ask him to explain what was going on but bit his lip, waiting until Victor was ready to tell him.

“I’m sorry about all this, Yuuri,” he finally said in a low voice, continuing to look ahead of him at nothing in particular. “And we’d been having such a lovely evening, too.”

When nothing more seemed to be forthcoming, Yuuri finally ventured to ask, “Who was he, Victor? The guy you saw on the street?”

Victor sighed again and looked down. After a moment he said, “His name’s Jeff. He used to work at the Circle C. We…we were lovers, for a while.”

Yuuri swallowed, his heart in his throat, as Victor carried on.

“He left several months before I met you; said he was going to look for gold in Montana. Lots of guys were striking it rich up there, and he fancied his chances, he said. I tried to talk him out of it, get him to see some sense, but…well.” He shook his head. “Seems he took a really good crack at it, but didn’t have much luck. He went around a few mining camps and tried prospecting on his own, but was barely making enough to live on. He got through last winter, but eventually gave up where he was and came back here, to an area he knew better, hoping for a change in his fortunes. Instead he was robbed one night in a mining camp, and during that cold spell we had…” His voice cracked. “…he says he almost died trying to survive out in a tent.”

“Jesus,” Yuuri breathed.

“Since then he’s been prospecting up here around rivers, near ice and sand bars where some gold might have washed up, but it’s obviously hard this time of year. He found enough to take here and exchange for cash so he could stay in a cheap boarding house for a couple of nights, but he’s not sure what to do next.” His voice quietened so that Yuuri had to strain to hear. “He told me all this while he ate a meal I bought him like a scrap of food hadn’t passed his lips in days. I told him I’d go away and think; see if I could come up with any ideas. But…well, I don’t know.” He was fidgeting with the tips of his fingers now. “I can’t speak for Abe Connor, though I could try having a word with him. But they don’t tend to hire at this time of year, and…uh, it could make things awkward if he came back to the ranch. Especially for you.” He finally looked at Yuuri. “Not that I’d be interested in trying to start anything back up with him, please believe that. But…it just wouldn’t be a good situation. Apart from giving him some money, I honestly don’t know what I can do to help him.” His hands dropped into his lap and he looked down in dejection.

Yuuri had been trying to make sense of the things Victor was saying while he listened. He was also touched by Victor’s concern about putting him in a position where he might have to interact regularly with his ex – but disappointed at the same time that he thought Yuuri might be so petty as to let something like that stand in the way of helping this man who’d been through hell. Besides, even without the reassurances Victor had given him, wasn’t it clear that their relationship was strong enough that Victor wouldn’t be tempted to get back together with someone from his past, no matter how close they might have been? Well, wasn’t it? he asked himself again, wishing he could feel more certain about the answer. But he trusted Victor, he knew he did, and that was all that was necessary.

“Victor,” he said, taking one of his hands in his own and caressing it lightly, “I have an idea. Go find Jeff, if you know where he went, and bring him back here. I’ll meet you both in the saloon downstairs.”

Victor looked at him quizzically, but Yuuri just smiled.

“Go on. I’ll be waiting.”

***

The saloon was surprisingly busy for the late hour, Yuuri thought; it must be true what they said about mining towns never sleeping. He’d found a table and waited, somewhat nervously, while he nursed a mug of beer. There were sooty lanterns spaced regularly along the walls, with mining tools and harnesses and animal-head trophies nailed up in between. Yuuri didn’t care for the décor, but the glasses were clean and the selection of drinks good, which was all you could really ask for in such places. A haze of cigarette smoke drifted across the yellow beams from the lanterns and mingled with the smell of cigars, stale sweat, and woodsmoke from the large stone fireplace.

Eventually Victor and Jeff made an appearance in the doorway. Yuuri gestured to them and they approached the table, Jeff taking a chair opposite Yuuri while Victor went to join the queue for drinks at the bar with barely a word.

“Jeff Friedman,” he said in a soft, thin voice, extending a hand to Yuuri across the table.

“Yuuri Taylor.” He took the proffered hand and shook it.

“Victor told me about you earlier. Said you’ve been working with him at the Circle C.”

Yuuri started to open his mouth and suddenly discovered he had no clue what would be an appropriate thing to say, the situation being utterly foreign to him. Victor had slept with this man. Did Jeff have any hopes of persuading him to take him back? Yuuri wondered if he was supposed to make a show of possessiveness to let him know it wouldn’t be tolerated. At least threaten to rip his arms off if he made any moves on Victor. Or respond to his comment with something like, _I’ve been doing more than working with him. We’re lovers, actually. I just thought you ought to know._

But as he looked at the person sitting in front of him, he couldn’t summon up the bile for any such actions or remarks. He was clearly still young, probably about Yuuri’s age, but looked weatherbeaten, his skin leathery and wrinkled before its time, stretched too tightly across sharp cheekbones. Yuuri saw that his hands were in a similar state, cracked and calloused, and his cheeks and lips were an angry raw red. Up close, now, he could also discern tears in his clothing, the cuffs of his coat having been well frayed. And yet he must have been boyishly handsome before his ordeal, though not extraordinarily so.

No, he thought this fellow looked like he’d been through enough without him heaping more cruelty on top of it. In fact he had a friendly look about him, even if was somewhat hidden behind his dog-kicked-in-a-corner demeanor. “Victor told me about you, too,” he said. “That you’d gone to Montana to look for gold and ended up here, down on your luck.”

“Well that’s one way of putting it,” Jeff said with a sheepish grin. It lit up his blue-green eyes. Yuuri thought he was beginning to see what it was about him that might have appealed to Victor.

“Strange how you bumped into each other here.”

Yuuri had meant it earnestly, but Jeff seemed to take his comment as some kind of insinuation. “Look – I ain’t got any designs on him, if that’s what you mean. We broke up a while back. I didn’t know he was here.”

“I know. I believe you.” He glanced over at the bar. Victor was still waiting to get drinks. He shot a nervous glance at Yuuri, met his eyes, then looked away.

There was a tense silence, then Jeff spoke again. “He said you both were doing trick riding.”

Yuuri nodded. “He’s been teaching me.”

“Good, isn’t he?” Jeff muttered, following it with an amused laugh, as if to say, _That’s about as big an understatement as anyone could make._

A grin creased Yuuri’s face. “You could say that.”

“He still riding Luchik?”

“Yeah.” It felt odd hearing a stranger talk about Victor in this way.

“Still takes forever to groom him, I bet,” Jeff added, warming to the subject. “He used to have about twenty different gizmos out there in the stable, and would preen him like he was some barber with a fancy customer. Sometimes I just said, ‘You two wanna be alone for a while, I understand.’ And left them to it.” He rested his chin in the palm of one hand as if reminiscing, and smiled.  

Yuuri let out a laugh. He couldn’t help it.

“And there ain’t never been anyone for wantin’ a smooth face so bad. I bet he still hates it if he misses a single day of shavin’. Like if he grows some stubble on his face, people will think he’s got the plague or somethin’.”

“That certainly hasn’t changed,” Yuuri said as he carried on laughing. Then his eyes widened as a thought struck him. “Do you remember him bathing outside in the middle of winter in a wooden trough?”

Jeff guffawed and slapped the table. “Jesus Christ, he’s still doin’ that? Goddamn crazy Russian bastard. I gotta give it to him, though – that ain’t somethin’ I could ever do. He was always tryin’ to show people how he could take the cold like a man. Why, I remember – ”

“Am I interrupting?” Victor asked, sounding bemused. He put three beers down and looked at Jeff and Yuuri in turn. They were creased with laughter, and seemed to be finding extra merriment now that Victor himself had arrived. He sat down in a chair between them and took a sip of his beer silently, pink creeping across his cheeks as he watched them.

Jeff grabbed his drink and took a pull with a sigh, growing more subdued again. “Shit, I can’t remember the last time I laughed at all. Yuuri and me was just comparin’ notes.”

Victor looked stricken and Yuuri smiled at him. “Not about anything too personal,” he said with a wink.

“That’s good to hear,” Victor spluttered into his beer.

“Seriously, you two have been very kind to me tonight,” Jeff said. “It was my own stupid fault I ended up where I am, and I don’t deserve no help from anyone. I’m sure if I keep pluggin’ away, I’ll get on my feet again somehow.”

“About that,” Yuuri said, pulling an envelope out of an inner pocket of his vest. “I wanted to give you this.” He held it out to Jeff, who took it.

“It says, ‘For the attention of Hank Taylor, Rafter T.’ ” He looked at Yuuri uncertainly.

“That’s my father. He’s the boss of the ranch. Go there and give him this; it’s my recommendation that he hire you right away.” Victor sat up straight, his eyes widening, as Yuuri continued. “There shouldn’t be a problem with you getting work there – they always need more men for the spring trail drive, which isn’t too far away. If there are any problems, come see me at the Circle C, and I’ll see what I can do. But I expect it should be straightforward enough.”

Jeff’s jaw dropped open, and he looked at the envelope like it was manna from heaven, then tucked it inside his coat. “You don’t even know me,” he murmured, his eyes bright. They held a certain fascination, Yuuri had decided; a spark of life that none of his experiences had succeeded in snuffing out, which he’d seen in other hardy folk in these parts.

“I do now,” Yuuri said. “But even if I didn’t, I still would’ve given that to you. Anyone who Victor…chooses to be with must be pretty special. That’s all I need to know.” He heard a small gasp from Victor next to him.

Jeff looked at Yuuri like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, downing the rest of his beer at the same time. “I’d better go,” he said, standing up. “I’ll…I’ll go see Mr. Taylor with this just as soon as I can hightail my way outa here.” Yuuri and Victor stood as well.

To his surprise, Jeff gave Yuuri a firm hug. “Thank you. And…look after him, hey? He needs someone to keep him out of trouble.”

Yuuri huffed a laugh. “Sure.”

“Victor.” Jeff looked at him uncertainly, placing a hand on each of his arms, but then Victor drew him silently into a hug. Pulling back after a moment, Jeff swallowed and said, “Take care of yourselves.” He held Victor’s eyes for a moment, then dropped his gaze.

“You too,” Victor replied.

“Thanks. I will.” Jeff nodded at them both, gave them a little grin, and then made his way through the crowded saloon toward the exit.

***

“Yuuri, _ya lyublyu tyebya. Ty takoy krasivi_ ,” Victor whispered. English just didn’t seem to be adequate to express what he felt sometimes.

“ _Aishiteru_ , Vitya,” Yuuri breathed in response.

It was late, and they were going to be tired the next day, but Victor didn’t care. As soon as they’d gotten back to their room, he’d tried to thank Yuuri for what he’d done for Jeff, but had quickly decided that actions spoke louder than words. He’d been so concerned that Yuuri would be jealous – after all, he always seemed to want to avoid the topic of Victor’s exes; and then when he had told Victor to bring Jeff back to the saloon, he’d done it purely as a matter of trust, unable to fathom what Yuuri had in mind. Never in a million years would he have guessed it was because he wanted to get him a job at his father’s ranch. Yuuri had surprised him yet again, and Victor felt full to bursting with love for him.

The urgency that had suffused him this time when he’d removed his clothes and helped Yuuri with his, then climbed into his lap and begun to take his pleasure with the aid of a little oil, felt like it had been born of something different this time. Despite the fact that they’d spent the better part of the day tangled up with each other, he somehow felt more present in the moment, more connected to Yuuri. Then it struck him that the feeling of _I want you_ had been superseded by _I love you_ – that was what dominated right now, and it was amazing and beautiful and sublime.   

He wrapped his arms around Yuuri as their rhythm quickened, but it felt like he couldn’t get enough. He raked his fingers through Yuuri’s hair. Lost himself in the brown depths of his eyes. Whispered Russian and English nonsense into his ear, against his cheek and neck. Fondled and caressed and kneaded even as Yuuri gripped his ass and pulled him onto his cock, thrusting underneath him at the same time and driving cries from Victor’s throat. Victor rocked against him, seeking out his mouth and mixing wet kisses with gasps and moans and praises.

“I love you, baby,” he breathed against Yuuri’s hair, as sweat began to bead on his brow and his body tensed and clenched. “So much. I…ah… _Yuuri_ ,” he moaned as the coil inside of him snapped and he spilled between them both, driving down hard on Yuuri, who dug his fingers into Victor’s back and cried out against his neck. Victor kissed his hair and forehead as Yuuri shook and his noises quietened into deep breaths and sighs.

They sat, holding each other tight, for some time afterward, before cleaning up and then collapsing into the bed together. They always liked to cuddle and stroke each other after making love, though Victor felt like taking especial care over it this time, despite the long day and lack of sleep. He brushed his fingertips over Yuuri’s cheeks, kissed his temple, smiled at him like a lovesick fool and gushed with compliments until Yuuri’s cheeks burned pink.

“You’re lovely,” Yuuri muttered softly, caressing his chest. “But you don’t have to say all those things.”

“I do, _solnyshko_. You didn’t have to be so kind to Jeff. I…it really touched me. You gave him the help that I couldn’t.”

Yuuri’s sleepy eyes flicked up to meet his own briefly. “He’s a nice guy,” he said matter-of-factly, then nestled into the crook of him arm; and his regular breaths soon indicated that he had drifted off.

Victor watched him, feeling a surge of fondness inside. Bringing them both here had been one of the better ideas he’d had in his life, he thought. It had been years since he’d spent so much time in wanton abandon, and never as enjoyably as he had today. He briefly thought back to the officers who used to lavish him with expensive things, show him off like a trophy, and take as much pleasure in him as he was willing to give, though he didn’t hesitate to indulge in his own as well. He’d done it because he could; because it was fun, diverting, made him feel a bit special. But it struck him now how far that really was from what he felt with Yuuri, whose most precious gift was simply yet profoundly _himself_. From their lovemaking, which – especially just now – had felt like they were joining at some unfathomable level where all barriers had broken down and the essence that was each of them had shone with bright love to the other, to the ordinary fun and laughs they’d shared at the theater, and even just shopping for their jeans, being with Yuuri today had been a joy. And then they’d run into Jeff.

Jeff, with those keen eyes that could look straight through you. Jeff, who’d given everything up to go in search of some mythical fortune he’d persuaded himself was there for the taking. Victor had found him to be kind-hearted and funny, but he’d never seemed to have a great deal of common sense, and he liked gambling. It didn’t seem to be a serious problem for him at any point, but he wasn’t particularly talented at it as far as Victor could tell, and he trusted an awful lot to luck. He’d come to view their relationship as one of good friends who were attracted to each other, but nothing like love had grown between them, at least not on Victor’s part. Certainly not like what he’d found with Yuuri – no one else had ever been like that. From the very beginning, it had felt like Yuuri had pierced Victor’s heart with an arrow.

But he still cared deeply for Jeff, as he did for anyone he considered a friend, and had been both shocked and horrified to come across him here in that state. All he could think to do was buy him a meal, listen to his story, and give him some money, as if he were a common vagrant who Victor had come across and wanted to show some kindness to. And the story Jeff had to tell would melt through the iciest of hearts, he was sure. They both had shed more than a few tears at its telling. Victor had parted with him at the rundown shack of a boarding house where he was staying, with the empty promise of going away to try to think of anything else he could do to help, figuring it was probably the last time they would see each other.

He’d had to tell Yuuri – there was no getting around it, even though he didn’t think it would achieve anything other than to perhaps draw out some ill-founded jealousy. But Yuuri had sent another arrow through his heart, as he did every time Victor was foolish enough to underestimate him. He’d rarely ever been as astonished as he was when he’d looked over at the table in the saloon where he’d left the two of them sitting – with no little amount of trepidation, uncertain how they would react to each other – and saw that the revenant of a man who had not long ago related his story of poverty and near-death with haunted eyes was now laughing heartily and gesturing emphatically along with Yuuri, as if the two of them had known each other for years. Victor had nearly dropped the beers he was carrying. And the embarrassment that had shot through him when he realized what they were laughing about…well. He could smile about that now, at any rate. Then Yuuri had given the envelope to Jeff, and when Victor heard what he’d put in it, it felt as if he’d fallen head over heels in love with this gorgeous man all over again. The urge to kiss and caress him again just now was hard to resist, but Victor didn’t want to wake him, and so he continued to gaze at him and bask in their shared warmth.     

He wanted to stay with Yuuri for the rest of his life. If he could marry him, he would. It had been frightening when the realization had dawned on him, though the actual desire to do so had been creeping up on him for a long time; he thought it might even have started in the shepherd’s hut, along with the beginning of their physical relationship, when they’d briefly shared their day-to-day lives in privacy and Victor had caught a glimpse of how good they had the potential to be together. He’d never had any reason to question that observation since. The thought of it filled him with a warm glow, rather than fear, now.

But there were reasons why he hadn’t overtly brought the subject up with Yuuri yet. He wasn’t even sure when the right time would be, or how to go about it. Would Yuuri actually want the same as he himself did? There was the matter of the ranch he stood to inherit, after all, plus other things, like the fact that he made no pretense about hating to have to conduct their relationship surreptitiously. Victor wondered if he had any right to expect him to give up so much. And looking beyond that, there was also the question of whether they would stay on the ranch, where they could continue to work with the horses and earn incomes, but where there was also the risk of getting caught, as well as the frustrating lack of privacy.

Had Yuuri thought about any of these things himself? Victor wondered. He supposed he’d have to try to find out eventually…but for now, he was content with snuggling against his sleeping form and wandering into pleasant dreams, all problems cast aside.


	39. Chapter 39

_They say ignorance is bliss._

Yuuri watched the final outbuildings and homes of Abilene pass by as he and Victor rode at a leisurely gait out of the town. They’d eked out their hotel stay for as long as they could, sleeping late and making love one last time before heading downstairs to breakfast. He felt like he was moving through a haze due to sleep loss, sex, and the strange episode with Jeff the night before. Both he and Victor would be saddle sore as well, but was a price worth paying, at least in his opinion.

He’d hoped he would never meet one of Victor’s exes. But he’d been surprised how, when it had happened, it hadn’t turned out to be anything like he’d expected. And in a way it had told him a little about Victor too; after all, Jeff had been an important part of his life for a while. Yuuri wondered if it was time to truly put his anxieties aside and open himself to finding out more about the people Victor had been with. The idea was still an uncomfortable one, though. He believed that Victor loved him. But it was still tempting for Yuuri to worry that he was so sexually ignorant and inexperienced that he disappointed Victor, even if he didn’t say so. That idea was belied every time they had sex, however, because there was no denying Victor’s attraction to him, however astounding Yuuri still found the fact at times. And now he thought maybe, just maybe, his belief in what they had together was strong enough to weather any insecurities that hearing about Victor’s past might raise in him. It would take some courage on his part, since once he knew, that knowledge could never be erased.

They rode quietly for a while. It was a calm day, the bright sun shining from a bright blue sky and glittering on the snowy hills and plains. Victor took a swig from his canteen, then looked at Yuuri and smiled. “What do you feel like doing when we get back? Do you want to exercise, or just rest up for a while?”

Yuuri’s heart dropped. This was always the hard part of anything special – when it was over with and you had to pick up the threads of everyday life again. Mind you, everyday life wasn’t bad with Victor in it, even if they ended up shoeing horses or herding cattle in below-zero weather. And that decided him: he was going to ask. Now. He would rather get Victor to talk about himself than what they were going to do back at the ranch.

After a pause, Yuuri looked back at him, wondering how to start. How did other people do this? “Victor…um, I wanted to ask you something. But if you don’t want to answer, if it’s too personal a question, I understand.”

Victor looked at him with curiosity. “A personal question? What is it, Yuuri?”

“Well, uh, meeting Jeff made me think about it. And I apologize if I’m doing this the wrong way, because I’ve never done it before and I don’t know what’s right or if I should even be asking in the first place – ”

“You’ve certainly got my attention,” Victor laughed. “What is it you want to know?”

“I was…I was wondering about…other people you’ve been with. In the past. You know, just out of curiosity. I don’t mean to be nosy or anything, and you don’t have to tell me – ”  

Victor’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh,” he said.

“Like I was saying, you don’t have to tell me anything,” Yuuri muttered, his cheeks stained with pink. “It’s just that they’ve been part of your life, and well, I guess I thought it would be interesting to hear – ”

“No, no, that’s fine,” Victor was quick to say. “I just…thought you didn’t want to know.”

“I don’t think I was ready to, before. But I am now. If you’re willing.”

A smile quirked at the corner of his mouth. “OK.” He paused. “You’re sure?”

Yuuri smiled back in encouragement. “Yeah.”

“OK.” Victor thought for a moment. “Uh, well…I suppose we’ve got plenty of time, so I’ll start at the beginning. This is going back a way, now…I was thirteen and Sergei was sixteen. We were at school together.”

Yuuri’s mouth dropped open. _Thirteen?_ “The boarding school?”

Victor nodded. “I was too young, but of course I didn’t see that at the time. I thought Sergei knew everything. It wasn’t…well, I wish things had started differently for me, but it was what it was.”

“How would you even…at a school?” Yuuri mumbled, then blushed, figuring he already sounded naïve.

“You ask that, when you’ve been sneaking around on a ranch?” Victor said quietly, though his eyes were kind.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Please feel free. Anyway, let me think…it wasn’t long after that when I left to go work at the stables. Things get a little confusing from there. I can’t remember all the specifics.”

Yuuri’s blush deepened. This was getting to be as bad as he’d feared – Victor had led some incredible life full of sexual adventure, and now he was here, stuck with Yuuri. But then he thought about the man he knew and loved, and told himself he was being silly, and to stop beating himself up and listen.

Victor looked a little embarrassed. “I didn’t have any significant relationships in Russia, Yuuri. I couldn’t honestly make a list of everyone I slept with. I was like a kid in a candy store for a while – men wanted me, and I liked being wanted. I liked sex; it was fun. It took me a long time to work out that living that way wasn’t very fulfilling.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I worked hard at the stables too – I loved what I was doing and dedicated myself to it. That’s actually how I spent most of my time.” He grinned. “The champagne and chocolates were something extra on the side.”

“From who, exactly?” Yuuri asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. He’d heard Victor mention this a few times now.

Victor waggled an eyebrow. “A handsome army officer. He was a lot older than me, and very…experienced. He swept me off my feet, I guess you could say. I taught him trick riding at the stables, and he stuck around for a while, then moved on to his next post. They always did. You had to expect it.”

Yuuri’s eyes were like saucers. It was strange to hear Victor talking about these things – other people in another life that seemed so different from the one he had now. Strange, as well, to hear him talk about being attracted to other men. But that was what he’d asked for, Yuuri reminded himself, and maybe it was testament to the trust between them that Victor felt able to do so.

“I still have a weak spot for men in uniform, if I’m honest,” Victor chuckled. “We’ll have to find one for you to wear sometime, even if it’s only once.” He gave Yuuri a hungry look. “God, that would be amazing.”

Yuuri was sure no one had ever looked at him like that before, openly fantasizing about him as Victor was doing. It made him want to rush out to the nearest army outpost and offer any price for their most dashing uniform, just to find out how Victor would react. He smirked and fluttered his lashes.

“You have a habit of distracting me, you know. Now, where was I?”

“Handsome army officers.”

“Oh yes. And horsemen. Stable boys, trainers. Not, uh…all at the same time. But life there was like it is on the ranches here – people would stay for a while, then move on. If I’d met anyone I might have had a future with, I wouldn’t have known it and probably wouldn’t have been interested anyway.” He gave Yuuri a calm, measured look. “If I sound like I’m bragging, I’m not. I…I’m not sure you would have recognized me as I was then. I had a lot to learn.”

“You were still you.”

Victor just looked at him for a moment. “Well. Yes. I think I was a bit of a selfish prick at times, though. For a while I was feted as the master horseman of the region, and I had my pick of men to be with. It’s easy to let things like that go to your head, but I think Yakov did a good job of keeping me in check when I got bad. I…I miss him, Yuuri. He was the only person who seemed to care enough to rake me over the coals when I deserved it, and to push me hard when I needed it.”

Yuuri hadn’t expected to hear anything like this, and his heart went out to the young version of Victor that was being illustrated for him. At least he’d had Yakov. It sounded as if he’d perhaps been a similar presence in his life to what Bill Harvey had been for himself.

“I didn’t really want to leave him and the stables,” Victor continued, “but I told you all about that.” He sighed. “So…I came to this country. I wanted to be near the mountains, like I said, and since the last major city I found myself in was Denver, I found a ranch to work at near there.”

“Really – you went to Colorado first?”

“Yes; that was six years ago or so. And that’s where I met Jo.” He paused. “You’re sure you want to hear all this?”

“If you want to keep going. It’s…nice to find out more about you.” Yuuri gave him a gentle smile. He was pleasantly surprised so far at how little anxiety he’d felt as he’d listened to everything Victor had told him.

“Well, for a start I expected to carry on as I’d been used to doing in Russia – there were a lot of attractive men to be found around ranches. But eventually I guess I just figured it was time to grow up. I took pride in what I did, and worked hard, and accepted more responsibility for being discreet in meeting other men before I did something that would get us into trouble. Maybe I was ready to try to get to know and be with someone properly, too.”

He paused to take another drink from his canteen. The featureless hills flattened as they rode back onto the range, the trees thinning out around them. Biscuit’s and Luchik’s hooves made steady clopping noises as they walked.  

“So, ah, I met Jo. You couldn’t help but notice him; he was such a fish out of water. This delicate, fair guy who was about as artistic as they come, and there he was on a ranch hauling bags of barley and trailing cattle for days on end.”

“How did he end up doing that?”

Victor smiled sadly. “He had some kind of romantic notion about what it was like to be a cowboy. Well, that’s not uncommon; a lot of guys do, and they get into it without realizing how much hard work it actually is, and find out they don’t like it so much. Though with Jo it was more complicated, I think. It was like he was willing to put his body through all the hardship so that he could, I don’t know…suck the essence out of the life or something, and put it into his drawings and paintings. I know he hoped that he’d sell enough of them one day to get commissioned to travel around and make a living that way.” His voice dropped. “I…don’t know if it ever happened for him.”

Yuuri wasn’t sure what to say, but Victor hadn’t seemed to mind any of his questions so far, so he ventured another. “What happened?”

“He was a talented artist, but not a very good cowboy, is the best way to put it. One day he had a big bust-up with the ranch boss, who told him he’d have to up his game or he’d be out of a job. I…tried to help him, but it didn’t seem to make any difference. His heart wasn’t in the work anyway.” There was a melancholy look in his eyes as he reminisced. “You know, Clarissa isn’t the only person with artistic talent who’s had to find a way to make a living out here, when she would’ve been happier doing what she loved somewhere else. I…well, I sometimes wonder what else _I_ could have done. And you.” He looked at Yuuri. “Jo was like that too, but he just couldn’t cut it out here, I guess. One morning he’d vanished. No note, no goodbye. All his stuff was gone, along with his horse.” He added quietly, “I never saw him again.”

Yuuri was speechless. As awkward as he himself found goodbyes, he would never do such a thing to anybody. He could see that Victor had been hurt. “That’s hard,” was all he could think to say in response. “I’m sorry, Victor.”

“Well…I’m sorry, too. I wish…well, it’s too late for anything like that now. He made his choice. All I can do is hope it turned out to be a good one for him.”

After a silence, Yuuri tried to lighten the mood. When he’d started on this topic, he’d been stupid not to realize that it might dig up some painful memories on Victor’s part. “So where does the woman who dressed like a cowboy fit in?” he asked.

Victor chuckled. “Oh, a little while after that. She had a masculine look for a woman and was able to fool most everybody, though I wasn’t sure myself until I came across her bathing in the river. There’s no better way than that of finding these things out. She was just passing through town, and we had an interesting few days. I’d never had sex with a woman before, and she was game, so…” A delicate blush stole across his cheeks and he grinned. “It was fun, but it didn’t change my mind about preferring men. I’m happy to try most things once, though. Makes life interesting.”

Yuuri just smiled, taking this in.

“What about you, Yuuri?” Victor suddenly asked him. “Have you always preferred men?”

Oh god. What to say? He’d asked Victor to share all this personal information with him, which he’d done willingly, so it only seemed fair for Yuuri to open up as well. Talking about these things wasn’t as easy for him, though. _Actually, I had no sex life at all until I met you. I was probably the oldest male virgin in the territory. Are you sure I’m the kind of person you want to be with?_ But Victor already knew these things, and Yuuri liked to think that he’d done well catching up with what he’d missed out on, thanks to Victor’s…tutelage, you could say. He smirked to himself. At any rate, he’d at least thought about Victor’s question some more after Phichit had asked it the first time, and had arrived at what felt like a clumsy and not altogether satisfactory answer, but it would have to do.

“I’m not sure it would matter much to me if it was a man or a woman,” he said, “as long as I cared about them.”

Victor’s eyebrows lifted. “Really? Interesting…I’ll have to count fifty percent more of the population as my rivals now.” He smiled.

“Definitely not. I could search the whole world – nobody’s better than you.” He blushed, embarrassed at how much he was gushing.

Victor gave him a radiant grin but stayed quiet. Then after a moment he said, “I’m down to my last story. Well, the last but one – but you’ve already met Jeff. So, do you want to hear it?”

Yuuri nodded.

“OK, well…I told you I worked on some other ranches before I ended up at the Circle C. I decided to keep moving north; people said the further that way you go, the prettier it gets.” He chuckled. “And the colder the winters get too. But being Russian, of course that never bothers me, right?”

“Right,” Yuuri said, grinning.

“So anyway, I was working on a ranch in northern Colorado when I met Sean. He, ah, wasn’t a ranch hand though. He worked at the livery in the town nearby, and was a deputy.”

“Oh.” Somehow, ridiculously, Yuuri was surprised at this. Why had he been assuming Victor had only gotten together with cowboys while he’d worked on ranches?

“He was very down-to-earth. Kind-hearted. Had a thing about rooting for the underdog, which I guess is why he had a passion for defending the good guys against the bad guys.”

Victor smiled fondly, and finally Yuuri felt the first real pangs of jealousy hit him in the gut, like something he’d eaten that didn’t agree with him. He’d been daring to hope he was going to escape this. But Victor had obviously thought a great deal of Sean, and that stirred up uncomfortable thoughts and feelings – ones that Yuuri had promised himself he’d deal with if they arose. He reminded himself that he’d placed enough trust in his relationship with Victor to be able to do that.  

“I’ve never seen anyone so skilled with his aim,” Victor continued. “He liked playing games where you’d toss something up in the air and he’d shoot it – I even saw him shoot a nickel out of the sky once. Found it lying on the ground, dented from the bullet.”

 _That’s nice for him,_ Yuuri thought, then quickly added, _Stop being childish._ It didn’t get rid of the tension inside of him, however.

Victor gave Yuuri a keen look, then said, “I’ve never liked guns. I didn’t join him in any of those games. Though considering what he had to deal with as a deputy, it was just as well for him that he practiced, I think.”

Yuuri swallowed and looked down, wondering if that had been meant as a tactful admonishment. “How long were you together?” he asked.

“Uh…several months, certainly. Not quite a year. It felt like things were good between us; I was…well, as close to happy as I’d been since I’d come to this country, I think.”

It felt like a knife was twisting into Yuuri. _He chose me,_ he told himself. _He’s with me, and he loves me. I’m just being silly._ Though if Sean were standing here now, he felt sure he’d be tempted to do all of the things that had crossed his mind in the saloon when he’d first met Jeff. Clearly one thing that wouldn’t be a good idea, however, would be to challenge him to a gunfight.

_Did he love any of them, I wonder? Do I really want to know? Maybe that’s a step too far; maybe just knowing about them is enough._

Victor looked at him again, then continued. “He was offered a job as a U.S. deputy marshal and took it, though it meant moving to Oklahoma.”

“Wow,” Yuuri breathed. It was a respected but dangerous job for a tough man. There were many U.S. marshals and deputy marshals who had lived on in legend.

“As Oklahoma isn’t exactly next door, we had to say goodbye. I wasn’t ready to leave the ranch, and he…well, he was kind of like you, in that he got tired of sneaking around behind people’s backs. If I’d offered to go with him, I wasn’t sure he’d have wanted me to anyway.”

Yuuri detected a barbed insinuation in his words and said, “Victor…I hate that we can’t be more open with people about our relationship. But I promise you, I’m not getting tired of it, not if it’s the only way we can be together.”

“Really? _I_ get tired of it. Or did you forget what prompted me to suggest we come out here this weekend?” He sighed. “I know it’s frustrating.”

“I love you, Victor. I’d be willing to put up with a lot if I had to, to be with you.”

Victor’s eyes held his own steadily. “We…we’ll have to talk more about this sometime. I don’t think I have the energy right now, after I’ve just been through the story of my life.” He huffed a laugh.

Yuuri wondered what he himself had meant by the comment he’d just made. What _would_ he put up with to be with Victor? They did need to talk about this, but he had to reflect first on what his answer would be.

“Thank you,” Yuuri said to him. “I know it couldn’t have been easy to tell me all those things.”

“You might as well know, _solnyshko._ There are no secrets between us now.” He looked at Yuuri with a smirk. “Unless you…”

“No,” Yuuri laughed. “No mysterious things in my past. Nothing. I wish there were a few more interesting things to tell, in fact.”  

“ ‘Interesting’ doesn’t always equal ‘fun.’ ”

“That’s true. Though the fun things aren’t always the most important ones.”

Victor nodded and drank from his canteen. Yuuri watched him, wondering. He’d thought he’d known Victor, but now…it was as if that Victor he’d known had been an outline inked by an artist, who had just gone back and filled it in with vibrant colors, dark and light, that all blended together. There had been so much loss, so many empty encounters along the way…it struck Yuuri that Jo, Sean and Jeff had all left Victor behind. Gazing at him now, Yuuri found that incomprehensible; but who knew what had gone through their hearts and minds? Well, he knew his own, at least.

“Yuuri…” Victor said in a low voice, “…I just wanted you to know…I’ve never felt about anybody the way I do about you. I hope you can believe that, after everything I’ve said, because it’s the honest truth.”

Yuuri’s pulse gave a flutter. “ _Ty takoy krasivi_ , Vitya,” he replied softly, and felt a little thrill of pleasure when Victor looked at him in surprise, then gave him a smile that was like the sun breaking through the clouds on a summer’s day.


	40. Chapter 40

Yuuri had been right in thinking that coming back to the ranch after their stay in Abilene would be like crashing back to earth after soaring through the heavens. It’s wasn’t unpleasant, by any means, but he couldn’t remember ever having been so busy in his life. It made him uncomfortable when he went for long spells without having what felt like enough time to himself to gather his thoughts, but it couldn’t be helped. He still saw a lot of Victor, but it was rare that they were able to find any private time together, and Yuuri decided he would have to try to be content with the way things were for now. If anything, it reminded him that there were aspects to their relationship other than sex, and it was easy to neglect those sometimes.

For one thing, the Larkspur rodeo was fast approaching, and Yuuri wanted to spend an increasing amount of time preparing for it. He and Victor worked out together several evenings a week now, doing gymnastics and ballet, and they took it seriously enough to keep the flirtatious distractions to a minimum. They practiced with their horses in the corral when they could fit it into their schedule, sometimes giving brief shows to curious ranch hands who passed by. Victor continued to act as a coach to Yuuri, but as Yuuri knew what he was doing by this point, it was mainly in the capacity of helping to boost his confidence in whatever ways seemed appropriate. He also did a great deal of practicing himself; and as he had in the past, sometimes Yuuri was content simply to lean on the fence and watch him, admiring the grace and beauty with which he moved.

Yuuri occasionally visited with Hajimu as well, often after a meal if he had time, joining him in the cook shack and helping him do the dishes or sort out ingredients for the next meal as they talked. His Japanese was returning to him so quickly it surprised him, though what he spoke was at the level of a young child, and he wasn’t sure if it would really be worth putting in the time and effort it would take to become fluent. After all, apart from Hajimu, who would he speak it with? That said, it was nice being with Hajimu sometimes just for the company. He figured it probably wasn’t a good idea to let his life revolve around one person, as it was tempting to do with Victor, and he missed having Walt around. Hajimu had a similarly wicked sense of humor, and he understood the depths of the prejudice that they both faced from time to time. He was also a cook _par excellence_ , and Yuuri wondered how long he would stick around at the ranch before he found better work that was more suited to his talents.

On top of all this, calving season was fast approaching, and at the beginning of March there were already some pregnant cows that needed herding back to the ranch to give birth. Yuuri knew that soon this would take top priority on the ranch for several weeks, and it called unpleasantly to mind the blizzard Victor and his fellow ranch hands had been caught in the year before. He prayed for decent weather this time around.

What they got was not impossible to manage, but it was uncomfortable. The month turned out to be unusually wet, and that gave the cold the power to seep into a cowboy’s bones. Yuuri, Victor and the others spent days out on the range in their oilskin coats, water spilling off their hat brims. Ice pellets slashed at their faces, and the freezing fingers of the wind crept into damp clothes and boots. On a practical note, Yuuri told himself the weather might at least encourage good grass and crops to grow that season, but it was meager comfort.

Yuuri found himself lying awake later than usual one night in the bunkhouse; he’d been mulling the things over in his mind that he hadn’t had time to ponder during the day, from the first chores he would need to do in the morning, to the Japanese honorifics Hajimu had insisted he should memorize, to how he and Victor could secure a viable future for themselves; the latter being the most important, of course, but also the issue that he could never get very far with, and which really deserved more thought on his part, if he could just find the time. Working at it felt like trying to erode a mountain with a hammer and chisel.

He always came back to the fact that he loved Victor with an intensity that was almost frightening at times. Surely if he let that guide him, everything else ought to fall into place. At least, that was what he’d been thinking for months. Maybe it wasn’t actually enough. He ought to talk to Victor, but part of him was afraid of what Victor might say; that he might propose things that Yuuri didn’t want, or was unsure of. Things seemed to be going so well between them – why endanger that?

 _Because if I want them to_ keep _going well, now and into the future, we need to resolve this, or at least have some firmer ideas about what we want to do._

Damn that voice of common sense, making things difficult. He lay back in his bunk, staring into the velvety blackness. It must be very late; all the other men had gone to bed, their lanterns extinguished. A storm was kicking up a fury outside; Yuuri could hear a mix of rain and sleet assaulting the planks of the bunkhouse, the wind howling around the eaves. There was therefore no moonlight shining through the windows either, and Yuuri couldn’t see his hands in front of his face. The storm was drowning out the usual nighttime noises inside the bunkhouse, such as the snores, which wasn’t a bad thing, Yuuri decided.

In fact…it gave him an idea. It was such a good one that he wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before. The more he considered it, the more excited he got. A mischievous grin tugged at his mouth. He usually slept in his long johns on cold nights like this, but he stripped them off and felt under his bunk for a towel and pair of drawers, which he pulled on. Then he raked his hair back and sat for a moment. Could he really do this? His grin grew wider. Hell, yes.

Taking a deep breath, he padded across the short distance between his bunk and Victor’s, feeling his way with his feet and hands, and leaned down. He listened for Victor’s breathing, which was a difficult task given the noise the storm was making, but eventually located it and reached out to gently stroke his hair from his forehead, at the same time as he risked saying his name aloud into his ear. When Victor made a sighing sound and began to stir, Yuuri spoke once more.

“It’s me,” he said, running his fingers lightly over Victor’s shoulder and collarbone. He wondered how he could make his intentions clear without the need for any more words. Moving his hand in a light caress over the curves of Victor’s body concealed by his blanket, Yuuri kissed his forehead, and he thought he heard a gasp. An arm reached out and Victor found the nape of his neck, pulling him closer as he moved to the side to make room in the bunk.

His heart leaping, Yuuri slid under the blanket. While they were arranging themselves chest to chest, he placed the towel underneath them. Victor was only wearing his drawers as well, which was normal for him. They wrapped their arms around each other and stroked each other’s faces. Yuuri breathed in the faint scent of rose soap, mingled with Victor’s own that he had come to know and love.

There was little point in saying anything, since Yuuri knew that if they raised their voices above the storm, they would risk being heard by the others in the bunkhouse. He found it disconcerting, as well, that he couldn’t look into the pair of azure eyes that he knew were inches from his own. Touch seemed to be the most efficient method of communication open to them right now.

Yuuri felt slightly drunk with the audacity of what they were doing. He figured it was safe enough; even if someone woke and lit a lantern, the two of them were unobtrusive here in the corner of the room, under Victor’s blanket. They would just have to make sure they didn’t cause the mattress or the bed to make too much noise.

His thoughts were interrupted by the firm press of Victor’s lips against his. Yuuri ran a hand through Victor’s silken hair and dragged a foot slowly up his calf. They were soon lost in caresses, their legs tangled together, their tongues dancing. Yuuri found himself becoming attuned to subtle signals and responses that he hadn’t always noticed before. The gentle breath out of Victor’s nostrils during a kiss as his moans were lost in the howl of the wind outside. His chest rising and falling, quicker as their kisses deepened and their hands wandered to more intimate places. The beat of his heart under Yuuri’s palm.

As the spark between them kindled and burned, they began to rock and slowly thrust, seeking more friction. Wanting to do something more intimate than grinding against each other this time, Yuuri trailed a hand down Victor’s abdomen and palmed his erection. He felt Victor’s body jolt and his fingers tense against his back as the touch of his lips disappeared. Then Yuuri slipped his fingers through the slit in Victor’s drawers, released his cock, and began to stroke it, finding Victor’s lips again at the same time. There was a puff of air against his cheek, and then Victor mirrored Yuuri’s actions so that they each had the other in hand.

It became difficult to articulate kisses while focusing on other pleasures, and they nuzzled each other’s faces, Yuuri feeling Victor’s hot, ragged breaths against his skin. He couldn’t help but make little moans as he thrust into Victor’s hand. Victor quickened his pace and gave Yuuri a rough kiss, shoving his tongue into his mouth to claim it, and that was all it took to push Yuuri over the edge. His cries were muffled against Victor’s lips as he spilled, willing himself not to falter with the movements he was still making with his own hand. Soon he felt Victor’s body tense, and then he came also, shuddering. Their slick fingers wound around each other’s and intertwined, and they shared a long, warm kiss punctuated with gasped breaths as their racing pulses gradually stilled.

Yuuri pulled the towel from under them and they used it to clean up, then held each other as the storm gradually died away. He wanted nothing more than to remain like this, but it was already late, and if they fell asleep in each other’s arms…well, he didn’t want to imagine what the consequences might be if they were found. Feeling the strangeness of having shared so few words, he gave Victor’s cheek one last caress, then stole back to his own bunk.

Once there, Yuuri crawled straight under the blanket, immediately missing Victor’s warm body beside him, but nevertheless feeling a deep sense of satisfaction that he’d finally gotten the best of what had probably been the most frustrating situation he’d had to put up with night after night until now. The next time a storm like this came along, he knew what he would do. A smile played across his lips as he fell into a blissful sleep.    

***

He drank in the look of astonishment and admiration he received from Victor the next morning, along with his words spoken in a conspiratorial low voice: “I can’t believe you _did_ that.” But he grinned and his eyes shone. It was just as well that Victor liked surprises, because Yuuri had discovered that he liked providing them.

No similar opportunities presented themselves, however, as the days went past in a blur of activity. The height of the calving season came and went, along with the broken nights and worry and mess that went along with it, though mercifully the snow and ice seemed to have disappeared with the advent of spring. In the beginning of April, Victor was given the task of supervising the catching as well as the taming of mustangs, which would require several days of being away from the ranch. He needed a handful of men to come with him, and Yuuri was delighted to get the opportunity, even if it meant there would be a lot of work and practicing left to catch up with on the ranch when they returned. Chris was among those who accompanied them.

It had been a long time – too long – since Yuuri had been on an extended trip like this with other ranch hands; and while there was a chill in the air still, he discovered how much he’d missed traveling across empty country that was savagely beautiful and camping out at night. In the daytime they followed the herd of mustangs they’d tracked down, pursuing them without getting too close to frighten them, and stopping when they stopped; and by the third day the horses were tired enough to drop to a walking pace as they arrived at a lake where they drank. That was where the cowboys caught them and put them in a corral, ready to be taken back to the ranch.

Yuuri looked forward to the nights the most, however, when he could enjoy the heaven of Victor’s arms, the warm honey of his mouth, the dizzying urgency that drove their lovemaking, the slow caresses and fond whispers afterwards. Though he and Victor each pitched their own tents, they took turns stealing into each other’s, and had the relative luxury of privacy and being able to sleep together through the night. Chris had taken it upon himself to approach whichever tent they were both in and let them know when the coast was clear outside so that whoever was visiting could steal back to his own tent, for which Yuuri was grateful. It seemed a shame, he thought, that Zach, being on another ranch, wasn’t there to share similar intimate moments with the one who loved him, and Yuuri wondered how they both found the patience to be apart as often as they were.

***

One April evening, after practicing some Japanese with Hajimu, Yuuri went to Sweetwater Sam’s for his usual ballet lesson. Now, just a few weeks before the rodeo, he thought he would benefit most from exercises and dancing that would make him stretch and stay limber, and Clarissa had been exemplary at coming up with ideas for things he could try. He wondered, as he made his way up the stairs to her room, whether she’d thought of anything new since he’d seen her last, or whether she would ask him to work on what he’d already learned. Either was fine with him.

He knocked on her door as he always did, then stood and waited. After a minute with no response, he knocked again, a little louder. She’d always expected him at the times they’d agreed, and had not missed a single lesson with him so far, even when she’d clearly been struggling with a cold or, on a couple of occasions, been clearly hungover.

“Go away,” he heard her call from inside.

“Clarissa? It’s me, Yuuri. I’ve come for my lesson. Is…is everything all right in there?”

“I can’t see you tonight.” Her voice sounded far away, and as unlike the usual sassy tone she liked to adopt as it was possible to be. A knot began to tighten in Yuuri’s stomach.

“You don’t sound very well. Can you come to the door so we can talk?”

“I…no. I’m sorry, Yuuri. You’d better go. I’ll see you in a few days at the usual time.”

He stared at the door, wondering what to do. If she was sick, then out of politeness there was no point in pushing things any further. But she didn’t sound sick to him. She sounded upset. He wasn’t used to being in situations like this, and felt awkward; but he also thought it would be callous to leave her like this without trying harder to find out what was wrong. Maybe…maybe she was even hurt somehow, and needed help.

“Clarissa, if you don’t feel up to doing the lesson tonight, that’s not a problem. I just want to make sure you’re OK.”

“I’m fine.”

He bit his lip. “You don’t _sound_ fine.”

“Well I _am._ Just leave me alone, OK?”

“Now I _know_ something’s wrong.” He softened his voice. “I just want to talk to you. Please come open the door?”

It was yanked open in front of him several inches. Clarissa stood behind it, mostly hidden from view, her head turned away, but she’d stepped aside in an indication that he might as well come in. “You’re stubborner than a burr on the backside of a bear, you know that?” she said, sounding unconvincingly annoyed with him.

Yuuri stepped quietly inside. She shoved the door closed behind him and quickly marched over to the sideboard, where she poured herself a drink. “I might not be in a dancin’ mood tonight, but this bottle of gin’s got my name on it. Want some?”

“Um, maybe later.” He paused. She had moved away from the lamp into the shadows, her rippling blue robe falling into shades of grey. “Clarissa, what’s wrong?”

Her pose was oddly reminiscent of Victor’s when he was watching Yuuri ride Biscuit in the corral. One arm was folded across her chest while the other was propped up by the elbow; but whereas Victor would rest a finger against his lips, she was holding a glass to hers. She didn’t get as far as taking a sip, however, before she started shaking, and then sobbing noises welled up from her throat. They were quiet but sharp, as if she were fighting to contain them but they were getting the upper hand.

Yuuri wasn’t used to being around women, especially ones who were crying, but his heart went out to her and he quickly strode forward to take her in a comforting embrace, gently lifting the glass from her hand and putting it down on the sideboard. With his arms wrapped around her, she buried her face in his shoulder and wept openly, her fingers clinging to him as if she were relying on him to anchor her. He simply stood and made soothing noises while she released whatever grief it was she contained. Maybe she’d bottled up years’ worth of it, he mused.

After what seemed like a long moment, she drew back, and Yuuri was able to see her face more clearly, though the light was still dim where they were standing. There was a dark mark across her left cheek. “Come over here near the lamp,” he said. When she tried to pull away, he added, “Come on – show me.”

Reluctantly, with her head hung low, she shifted until she was standing by the pink oil lamp next to the sofa. Yuuri followed and then stood in front of her, putting a finger under her chin and tilting it up. He could see now that there was an angry purplish-red blotch across the whole of her cheekbone, her bottom lip was split and still bleeding slightly, and there was another blotch on part of a collarbone that was peeking out from under her robe. She simply looked at him, her eyes as expressionless as those of a fish, though an occasional tear still leaked from the corners.

“What the hell,” he muttered, struggling to take in what he was seeing. “Clarissa…who did this to you?”

She jerked her head away and crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze dropping back to the floor. “It ain’t the first time this has happened,” she said quietly. “It’s been a while, but it ain’t the first time.”

“Who did this?” Yuuri repeated, feeling anger stirring in his veins at whoever the culprit was.

Now she looked at him, and he was surprised to see anger on her face as well – directed at him. “Do you honestly think it matters?” she demanded in a sharp tone he’d never heard her use before. “Do you think anyone gives a damn? It’s part of my job, sweetcakes. It’s the risk you run when you take strange men into your room all by your lonesome. _I_ know it, everybody else knows it, but it seems to have taken a while to dawn on _you_ for some reason.”

Yuuri felt like he’d been slapped. Before he could say anything else, however, she added, “There ain’t nothin’ you can do. You see, I figured this was how you’d be, which is why I didn’t want to let you in. You can’t do any good here tonight. Like I said, just go back to your ranch. I’ll heal up soon, and I’ll be good to go for your next lesson.” She went back to the sideboard and finished her drink with a gulp, then poured herself another and stood holding the glass.

Yuuri’s face was hot with outrage – at the situation, and at her response to it. “You think that’s all that matters to me? I don’t care about the goddamn lessons, I care about you! We need to find whoever did this to you, and I swear – ”

“You’re gonna come ridin’ to my rescue like a knight in shining armor, huh?” she said, shaking her head and then huffing a laugh. “Well I guess I wouldn’t be surprised if you tried. But I’m tellin’ you, there ain’t nothin’ you can do. It’s better for everybody involved – you and me included – if you let it drop.” She sipped at her drink.

 _We’ll just see about that_ , Yuuri thought in exasperation. “I think the first thing we ought to do is get you to a doctor,” he said.

Clarissa sighed. “And I’m supposed to pay for that, how? I told you, I’ll be fine in a few days.”

“Don’t worry about that right now. Look, the least you can do is let me take you to see Doc Claricoates so we can make sure this guy hasn’t busted you up too badly.”

Clarissa made more feeble protests, but her heart didn’t seem to be in them, and in the end she put on a day dress, boots, hat and coat and agreed to walk with Yuuri to Doc Claricoates’s house. As they entered the half-full saloon downstairs, Yuuri spotted Sam working behind the counter along with a young man who appeared to be in his teens, both of them wearing stained white aprons around their waists.

“Sam, I need a word in private, please,” Yuuri said, walking up to him.

“Yuuri, no,” Clarissa whispered, tugging at his arm. He couldn’t understand why she seemed so determined that he drop the matter. Some snake had beaten her up, and surely it was only right that he was found and made to pay for what he’d done.

“I’m kinda busy here,” Sam replied distractedly as he pulled a beer for a customer. “Can’t it wait ’til later?”

“No, it can’t,” Yuuri said firmly.

Sam stared at him, taking in his bright, angry eyes and Clarissa’s look of distress. Then he put the mug down in front of his customer, sighed, wiped his hands on his apron and left the bar, walking through the doorway that led to the bottom of the stairs. Yuuri followed, Clarissa hesitantly moving in their wake.

“Now what’s this all about?” Sam asked, his dull little gray eyes shifting from one to the other.

“You mean you can’t tell, now you’ve had a good look at her?” Yuuri asked.

Sam stared at Clarissa, who avoided returning the gaze of either of the men and simply stood quietly. “What’s happened to her?” he said.

“Isn’t it obvious? She – ”

“Look, you two,” Clarissa interrupted, “stop talkin’ about me like I ain’t here. Yuuri, come on, let’s go.” She took his wrist to pull him along, but he stayed where he was and eyed Sam.

“I warned you about this before,” Sam said to her.

“Warned her about what?” Yuuri asked.

She looked at the wall, then at the ceiling. “I didn’t do anything to rile him up, if that’s what you mean.”

“You sure about that? You can turn into a helluva feisty critter when your back’s up.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” she insisted. “He had too much to drink, and he couldn’t get it up. I told him he still had to pay for the time he’d been with me.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Give me strength.”

“It’s only fair, Sam. I don’t ask for much.”

“So all he probably got outa you was an earful of claptrap, and you insisted he had to pay for the pleasure? No wonder he was pissed off. You gotta learn how to handle these clients of yours better, my girl, or I’m gonna have my hands full with all this shit comin’ down on me, and you’ll find there ain’t no more room for you here.”

“Now wait a minute,” Yuuri said, taking a step toward Sam so that he was standing in his personal space in front of him. “Tell me that I didn’t just hear you threaten Clarissa because some owlhoot beat her up.”

“I will tell you no such thing,” Sam said in clipped tones, holding his ground. “She knows the score.”

“You can’t put the blame on a defenseless woman for a man attacking her.”

Sam burst out laughing. “Defenseless? This tigress has got claws on her. You’re a funny guy, you know that?”

“Yuuri,” Clarissa muttered, pulling at his wrist again.

“Look,” Yuuri said heatedly to Sam, “the least you can do is take the name of the man who did this. You’re Clarissa’s…boss, aren’t you? And then if you don’t want to do anything about it yourself, you can tell the sheriff. Or I’ll do it. Makes no difference to me.”

Sam stared at him, a smirk still quirking at his mouth. “Say, what’s your stake in this two-bit whore, anyway? You sweet on her or something?”

Yuuri had never wanted to punch someone’s lights out so badly before, but he told himself to stay calm.

“You lay a hand on me, fella,” Sam said slowly, observing the expression on Yuuri’s face, “and I _will_ be visiting the sheriff – to get you arrested. I hope we’re clear on that point.”

“Yuuri, for fuck’s sake,” Clarissa grumbled.

Startled by her choice of words, he glanced at her and read the pleading look in her eyes, along with a spark of annoyance. It soothed the waves of his temper, and he took her hand. “Let’s get you to the doctor,” he said gently. Then to Sam he said, “If you happen to have a change of heart, the sheriff’s just down the road.” Sam said nothing in response, but looked both affronted and amused as they passed into the saloon and made their way to the exit.

“I tried to tell you,” Clarissa said as they walked along the dark boardwalk, punctuated by lit lanterns outside of restaurants, drinking establishments and boarding houses they passed.

“I…I’m sorry,” Yuuri said in a low voice. “I just want to help.” A flame of anger leaped inside of him again as he added, “And that bastard had the gall to blame you for being attacked.”

“In his eyes, it _was_ my fault. The sheriff would only say the same.”

“Well that stinks.”

She glanced at him, then hitched a corner of her mouth up. “Nice to know someone’s on my side at least.” She paused. “But you seem to have some old-fashioned notions about defenseless women. Maybe calling you a knight in shining armor wasn’t too far off the mark after all.” She chuckled as Yuuri flashed her a quizzical look. “I ain’t _always_ a damsel in distress. Sam was right – I’ve got some claws too. I couldn’t get ’em out in time tonight, but I’ve left marks on a few guys who’ll think twice before trying what they tried with me.”

Yuuri felt his respect deepening for Clarissa as he listened to her. She sounded more like herself now – and a woman no one should want to mess with, besides. How much of it was true and how much was bluster, he wasn’t sure, but he suspected she’d been right about how he’d underestimated her.

When they arrived at Doc Claricoates’s house, Clarissa was taken to the examination room while Yuuri waited. He thought about the time he’d been here after he and his companions had escaped from Miner’s Corner. That was when Victor had asked him to be his apprentice – after, of course, Yuuri had asked him the exact same thing at the hoedown, without a shred of recollection later. It had only been just over a year ago, but it felt like so much had changed since then, and a twinge of nostalgia passed through Yuuri as he looked through the doorway into the parlor, where Victor had put the proposal to him so hesitantly, and then reacted like a giddy schoolboy when Yuuri had said yes without hesitation. A smile crept across his lips.

“Mr. Taylor?” came the doctor’s voice. He stepped outside of the examination room, closing the door behind him.

“Hi, Doc. How is she?”

“Well, she’s got a few nasty cuts and bruises. Her clavicle – collarbone – seems to have gotten the worst of the damage, but I don’t think it’s broken. I’ve cleaned her up and told her to soak everything in cold water several times a day to take the swelling down. She should rest as much as she can. She, uh…won’t tell me how it happened. I don’t suppose you know?”

“She won’t tell me either.”

“I guess that shouldn’t be a surprise. I see too many ladies like her here, lots of ’em in worse shape than this. Anyways, you both are free to go.”

Yuuri settled up with the doctor and escorted Clarissa back to her apartment, avoiding eye contact with Sam as they went through the saloon. He said he’d be happy to come in and keep her company for a while, even if she didn’t want to talk. It seemed to be a welcome suggestion, and they shared some drinks while sitting together on the sofa in front of the stove, which Yuuri had stoked up. Clarissa seemed to have had enough of the evening’s events and clearly had no desire to discuss them further, but her face lit up when she told him new stories about her time in the theater and on the stage, in happier days.

The hour was late when he arrived back at the bunkhouse, and Yuuri felt full of a mixture of emotions, chief among them frustration at his helplessness. He entered quietly and carried his lantern to his bunk, where he put it down on the floor and sat removing his boots.

“You’re back,” came Victor’s voice from a few feet away.

“Oh, hi – I didn’t realize you were awake,” Yuuri replied quietly.

“I…was worried. I know we stayed at Clarissa’s over Christmas Eve, but you’ve never stayed when you’ve gone for your dance lessons, so I got to wondering about what might have happened to you.” He chuckled. “Oh, listen to me. I sound like an old mother hen.”

Yuuri smiled. “That’s OK. It’s been an odd night.” He told Victor everything that had happened, while he undressed to his long johns and climbed into his bunk. They viewed each other by the low light of Yuuri’s lantern on the floor. Victor listened with a somber look on his face, his clear blue eyes calm and steady. “It still burns me up inside that there doesn’t seem to be anything I can do about it,” Yuuri said in conclusion.

“You did what you could,” Victor replied. “I think Clarissa must have appreciated it. Imagine her going through that by herself, without you or anyone else there to give her some support. And I agree, it’s awful to think anyone would want to do that to her.”

“Sam was horrible to her, too.”

“At least you cared enough to try to help, which is more than can be said for most people, given who and what she is.”

“That stinks. That’s what I told her.” Yuuri paused. “She laughed and said I was trying to be a knight in shining armor. Well if that’s what I was setting out to do, I’d have to say I failed spectacularly.”

Victor chuckled. “You remind me of Sean sometimes. I can imagine you going after the bad guys. But I’m glad you’re not out there risking your life in gunfights.”

Yuuri figured it was meant as flattery, but bringing up the ex-that-got-away, as Yuuri had him pegged by now, was like ripping off a scab and poking at the wound. “Me too,” he muttered.

“We can’t change the world, but we can choose to do what we think is best in our little corner of it, maybe. You have a kind heart, Yuuri.”

Yuuri smiled at him. “So do you.”

“I guess that means we’re pretty good together, huh?”

“Yeah.” There was the lovesick-idiot grin again, he knew, but he didn’t care. “Good night, Victor,” he whispered, turning the wick of his lantern down.

“Good night, baby.”


	41. Chapter 41

“As much as I love snuggling up to you in here nude, I’m going to have to put some clothes on,” Yuuri said, pulling himself out of Victor’s bedroll with a rueful look.

“I’m sorry to say I agree,” Victor replied, regretting that the peaceful moment had to be broken; but the fact of the matter was that it was cold. He got out as well, and both of them put their long johns on, along with thick socks. “Maybe it was a little soon to come back here. The days aren’t very warm yet – just warmer than they were.”

It had been Victor’s suggestion that they spend their first night in the grotto in almost six months. The waterfall had thawed, and meltwater from the mountains fed it into an eager gush as it cascaded over the lip of the cliff. They’d been wetter than usual after having passed to the side of it into the cavern beyond. Once inside, they were disinclined to make love in the biting chill of the open air, opting instead for climbing into the bedroll, which restricted their movements but provided warmth in its insulated cocoon. Victor had asked Yuuri to take him, and then they’d switched and Victor had brought them the rest of the way to bliss. After hastily donning their underclothes, they returned to the bedroll, sharing the warmth of their bodies, limbs tangled together, as the yellow light of the lantern on the ground next to them set their faces softly aglow and faintly brushed the gray rocky walls of the grotto. 

“I still love this place,” Yuuri said as he ran his hand across Victor’s chest, clad now in white knitted wool. “It’s just about as perfect as it gets. It feels like I can relax more here too, you know? Like we don’t have to worry that anyone’s going to accidentally walk in on us.”

“I feel the same, though what would _really_ be perfect is being able to have a fire in here.”

Yuuri laughed. “You’re not sounding very Russian.”

“Well, I like my creature comforts too,” Victor purred, nuzzling Yuuri’s hair.

“Good luck finding those on a ranch.”

“Hm.” He paused. “Well, we don’t have to stay on a ranch for the rest of our lives,” he commented quietly.

Yuuri looked at him. “What else would we do?”

Victor shifted so that he was propped up on an elbow, gazing earnestly into Yuuri’s eyes. “Do you want to go through more winters like this one? This is how it would always be – so little time together, and noplace where we can find privacy and be warm unless we keep visiting hotels.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “I won’t forget our weekend in Abilene any time soon, but that was just a few days. I…I want to be with you all the time, Yuuri. Not like Chris and Zach, just visiting each other once in a while.” He was tempted to add, _I want to spend the rest of my life with you,_ but thought he already detected some uncertainty in Yuuri’s eyes, and deemed it best to tread carefully.

Yuuri appeared to be digesting this. “Me too.” He ran a hand down Victor’s cheek. “I can’t imagine not being around you.” There was silence for a moment, and Victor simply watched his lovely brown eyes, wondering what thoughts were behind them. “And I know we keep talking about how frustrating it is, not getting much privacy. But…we have it in here, don’t we? For half the year, anyway. And we _are_ with each other all the time – we see each other every day.”

This wasn’t how Victor had envisioned this conversation going when he’d imagined having it, and he felt taken aback. “I can’t argue with you about that, but…do you think sometimes it would be nice to have some things that are part of normal life for everybody else? A bed for us both to sleep in; some privacy once in a while when we want it? Maybe…maybe we could get a place of our own.” There, he’d said it. It was out in the open between them now. His stomach did a flip as he waited for Yuuri’s response.

Yuuri stared at him. “Uh…it’s, um, not like the idea hasn’t crossed my mind. And it sounds wonderful, Victor. But…”

 _Oh god, there’s a “but,”_ Victor thought.

“…you said yourself that we’re horsemen – that’s what we’re good at, that’s what we know how to do. So how else would we make a living, if we didn’t work on a ranch?”

Victor had an idea that he could be pretty self-sufficient if he wanted to be. He’d made sure Yakov and his wife Lilia had taught him how to cook. He’d learned on ranches over the years how to make things, even a little about how to hunt and fish. They might not bring in much money, but they could get by. Though that didn’t answer the question of what to do about horses. Horses had been his life for so long.

“I’m getting the impression you haven’t thought this through much yourself,” Yuuri said, and his eyes were gentle. “I want to be together with you, too…I guess we just need to figure out how. I don’t think anything we could come up with would be without drawbacks. Is it so bad living like we are right now?”

This was what Yuuri kept falling back on when they hit barriers to considering anything else, and Victor felt a need to at least show him that it wasn’t sustainable in the long term, which he felt Yuuri must surely know but maybe didn’t want to admit. “Apart from the other things I’ve said – I hate to bring this up, but your dad said he wanted you back at the Rafter T soon. That was a few months ago. He, um, doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who would let something like that drop.”

A fire sprang into Yuuri’s eyes. “I don’t answer to him. Not anymore.”

“But…believe me, I don’t want to disagree with you, but…maybe it would be a good idea to consider this if you haven’t already…he thinks you’ve been apprenticed to me for not quite a year and a half now.” He sighed. “Hell, Yuuri, you probably know as well as I do that it was just an excuse to get you to over to the Circle C. I always intended to teach you anything you wanted to know, but the main thing was just that you were here with me. Apprenticeships come to an end, though, and this has been an unusual one anyway, because you already knew a lot about the trade before you started.”

Yuuri looked at him quietly, his lips slightly parted. He didn’t seem to know what to say.

“Do you know what you’ll tell your dad the next time he asks you when you’ll come back?”

“Jesus, Victor, I…no, I don’t. I guess I’ve been putting it off.” He sighed as Victor continued to look at him with searching eyes. “You’re right, I’m going to have to say something definite soon. But what? I don’t want to leave the Circle C, and I don’t want to leave you.” He made a small choking sound. “I haven’t even wanted to think about that. But at the same time, it’s hard to let go of the idea of inheriting the ranch one day. I think I’d be good at running it, and for once in my life that’s something I can say with some confidence. And then I’d be able to do things like offer jobs to people like Jeff, who really need them. It’s a good income too, unless the bottom drops out of the cattle market for some reason, which doesn’t seem likely. It’s…it’s what Hank was training me to do for years. I guess I never considered doing anything else.”

For the second time, Victor was disconcerted by what he was hearing. Why was this issue so difficult to resolve? Surely it shouldn’t be hard for them to say they wanted to be together, and then make it happen. He considered for a moment, then said, “Let’s try to think this through, then, yeah? So, scenario one – you end up having to wait a long time to inherit the ranch. At some point, your apprenticeship at the Circle C comes to an end. Your dad wants you back at the Rafter T. Do you refuse? Or if you do go…what, um…well, how do you imagine me fitting into that?” It was painful to say. It felt like he’d swallowed something sharp. They’d clearly both been avoiding this discussion, for good reason.

“I…” Yuuri’s voice trailed away. “I’d be happy to have you at the Rafter T with me, of course – ”

He couldn’t be serious, Victor thought with a sudden spike of anger. “As what? One of the ranch hands? Even if I was willing to sleep apart from you in the bunkhouse, Yuuri, I couldn’t work for someone like Hank Taylor. I…I just couldn’t. Not even for you.” And after all the times he’d thought euphorically to himself that there was nothing he wouldn’t do for the man he loved so much. He’d just rammed head first right up against a brick wall he hadn’t known was there until this moment.

“Maybe I could find an excuse to stay at the Circle C, then,” Yuuri said. At Victor’s skeptical look, he added, “OK, maybe that’s a bad answer. But if we did what you suggested, and got a place of our own, people would be wondering why we weren’t living on one of the ranches, and my father would want me back at the Rafter T. There’s a room in their house for me – why shouldn’t I stay there? They’d see no reason for you and me to be shacking up together, unless…well, it wouldn’t take people long to figure out what we were getting up to, I think.”

 _Unless we moved further away, and forgot about Hank and his ranch._ But Victor knew he had no right to ask such a thing of Yuuri. These were major decisions about his life that were his own to make. But Victor was struggling to see how he could fit into them. The grotto suddenly seemed to have grown colder, despite the warmth in the bedroll. “The second scenario, then,” he carried on, knowing they had not resolved the first, “would be if you inherited the ranch sooner rather than later. So you’re living at the Rafter T as the boss and owner.” He swallowed. “Again, I’d have to ask…”

“How you’d fit in,” Yuuri finished for him. “Of course I’d want you to live in the house with me. But…I don’t think we’d be able to do that, either, without bringing suspicion down on ourselves. You’d be expected to live in the bunkhouse, even if I made you a co-owner of the ranch. Or at least in your own place. Not together with me.” He sighed deeply. “Why the _hell_ can’t people just accept us for what we are? What harm are we doing anybody? All I want is to be with you, Victor. We’re going to make this work, somehow, I swear.” Tears pricked in his eyes.

“Shhhh.” Victor gathered him back into his arms. “We will. We’re not going to be able figure it all out right now, that much is obvious. But if we both carry on thinking, maybe we can share our ideas as they come up, hm?” He felt it was time to let the issue go for now; time to allow it to slip to the back of things again, for a while at least, and perhaps allow the solutions come about in their own way. For now, they were here in this beautiful place together, and the moment was one to be enjoyed. He kissed the top of Yuuri’s head. “In the meantime, the days are getting warmer, and we can come here and stay,” he said.

“Yeah.” Yuuri let out a shaky breath and kissed Victor’s cheek. “Yeah, we can. _Ya lyublyu tyebya_ , Vitya.” 

***

A few weeks later, there were some surprise visitors at the Circle C one Saturday afternoon. Yuuri and Victor were working in the corral with Luchik and Biscuit, polishing their riding for the rodeo, when a sudden “Hey!” from the fence caught their attention. Yuuri was standing on top of Biscuit, bareback, and glanced over to see Phichit with someone he didn’t immediately recognize; both of them had brought extra horses with them, tethered to their own by ropes. He dropped down and jogged over to the fence, Victor close behind him.

Phichit’s companion beamed at them both. It was Jeff; but he had filled back out to a normal weight, his cheeks were ruddy with health rather than abuse from the elements, and the unnaturally bright, haunted look had disappeared from his eyes. Gone was the frayed black coat as well, having been replaced with a dark brown woolen one that appeared to be second-hand but in much better shape. He was wearing an old pair of cowboy boots that at least were not falling apart like the work boots Yuuri had originally seen him wearing.

“Hi, guys,” Jeff said as Yuuri and Victor approached. “What were you two doing just now? It was amazing – I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Yuuri smiled at Victor, who said simply, “Practicing for the rodeo. And look at you – you’re keeping well. Are you working at the Rafter T, then?”

“I went there after I bumped into the two of you, and sure enough, Mr. Taylor gave me a job. I don’t know how to thank you, Yuuri. It’s been good there. I get to sit in front of a stove and warm myself up. And I met this here fella.”

“I mentioned to him that I knew you,” Phichit said to Yuuri, “and he told me about meeting you in Abilene. Gave me a real adventure story about all the places he’s been. Said he knew Victor from working here. Well, when Mr. Taylor came to the stable looking for a couple of guys to run some stallions over here to stud today, we volunteered. It’s good to see you both. And, Yuuri – where did you learn how to stand on a horse’s back like that?”

“This guy here next to me, of course,” Yuuri said with a laugh.

“You both were lookin’ good out here,” Jeff said. “We’re gonna have to go watch you at the rodeo.”

Victor smiled. “Why don’t we get our horses back in their stalls, and you can bring these fellows into the corral and we’ll have a look at them. I’ll have to find out from Abe if he wanted to breed them with horses we’ve got stabled, or if he’d prefer the mustangs.”

After Jeff and Phichit led the stallions into the corral and stabled their own horses, Phichit pulled Yuuri aside. “I’ve got a message for you, too,” he said in a low voice. “From your dad.”

“Oh.” Yuuri’s heart sank. “What’s he want?”

“He just told me to tell you that he wants to see you, is all.”

Yuuri sighed. “He probably wants to know when I’m coming back.”

“When _are_ you coming back?” Phichit asked, looking at him.

“I don’t know.”

Phichit glanced over at Victor, who was chatting to Jeff as he checked the stallions over. “I guess there’s the reason you don’t know.”

“Yeah.”

“What are you going to do? You can’t stay here forever.”

“Jesus, Phichit, not you too,” Yuuri muttered.

“You two been arguing about this?” Phichit asked gently.

“Not arguing, really, no, but…we can’t seem to decide on anything. We don’t want to be living in separate places, but there doesn’t seem to be any easy way of staying together either.”

Phichit shook his head. “I wish I knew what to tell you. Well, I hope you work something out. They say love always finds a way, don’t they? Anyway, your dad said…um, he said for you to come in the next week, or he’d send someone over here with a lasso to drag you back. I…think he meant it as a joke.”

“He probably knows that’s just about the only way he’d get me to go over there right now,” Yuuri said, looking down at the ground.           

***

 _I’m going to stay calm, and I’m going to do it for Victor,_ Yuuri told himself as his mother let him into the house. He hadn’t taken his key with him to the Circle C and had to knock like other visitors. _All doors are staying open to me for now, until Victor and I decide what we’re going to do. The last thing I need is to pick an argument with my father._

Victor had been sympathetic about Yuuri having to make another trip to see his parents, to the point where he’d offered to accompany him. Yuuri knew how much it cost him to say that, and loved him for it, but was not about to put him through a repeat performance of the disastrous Christmas lunch or anything similar. What disturbed him the most, though, was that he didn’t have ready answers to the questions he knew his father was going to ask.

His mother told him about what she’d been doing since she’d seen last him, which wasn’t anything unusual, as they sat together in the living room; she perched nervously at the end of a wooden chair, Yuuri sitting on the velvety green sofa. When she ran out of things to say, Eva told Yuuri she hoped he and Victor had been keeping well, then disappeared into the hall, mumbling, “I’ll just go find out what’s keeping your father.”

Yuuri listened to the steady ticking of the grandfather clock, the only noise in the room. A nearby moose-head trophy stared down at him with its dead, glassy eyes from the wall. Eventually a cough signalled Hank’s approach, and he entered the room and immediately went to the sideboard to pour himself a drink. He was wearing cowboy clothes today, brown woolen pants and a plain white shirt with his pristine cream-colored Stetson perched atop his head. “Howdy, son. Want one?”

“Please,” Yuuri said, standing and joining him. The smooth bourbon slipped down his throat like a welcome friend.

“You guys get through calving season OK over there at the Circle C? We had a helluva time here this year. You know how it goes sometimes.”

“Not bad. Better than last year.”

Their talk carried on in a similar vein for some minutes, then Yuuri asked, “How’s the new guy doing – Jeff?”

“Him? I don’t know what gutter you pulled him out of, but he’s a good worker. You ought to send me more like that.”

“That’s good to hear. Uh…Phichit said you wanted to see me about something.” He braced himself for what was sure to come.

Hank finished his drink and poured himself another, topping Yuuri’s up as well. “Look, son, I need you back here at the ranch. I’ve made do without you for well over a year now. I taught you everything I know about how to run this place, and then you up and disappear on me. Now I know you have the odd funny turn once in a while, but I and everyone else on the ranch still see you as a safe pair of hands. This is where you belong.” His eyes bored into Yuuri’s. “Surely that Victor fella’s taught you everything he could by now. You can’t seriously tell me you’re still calling yourself an apprentice.”

Yuuri paused to collect his thoughts and his composure. “There _is_ still more to learn, Dad. I’ve just been out catching mustangs and helping to tame them. The way Victor does it, and shows other people how to do it, means they’re better-natured afterwards, even if it takes longer. You ought to give it a try, and you’ll see. There’s some people whose job is doing nothing but that, and then their ranch sells the mustangs on. But there are lots of other things we do, too. I know you don’t set much stock by it, but we’ve been working hard to get ready for the rodeo next month. You wouldn’t believe what it’s done for my riding skills, not to mention my health and fitness. Chopping firewood never gave me muscles in all the places I’ve got them now.” He couldn’t help but grin with pride.

“That so. Well anyone can see the muscles you’ve got, but it doesn’t mean you need to have an apprenticeship on another ranch to get ’em. You don’t need to be walking around here like some strong man from a circus, either, to do the things you need to do. You seem to forget you’re the boss’s son, and are always going out there like you want to be one of those cowboys. Knowing the job is one thing – that’s necessary if you’re going to run a ranch. That doesn’t mean you have to be doing it every day.”

“I need more time,” Yuuri said simply, staring at his drink.

“I can’t give you any more time. I’ve been generous enough, I think, letting you indulge in this little…whim of yours. I want you home within a month. That should be more than enough time to finish up whatever you’re doing over there and, god help us, prance around in that rodeo.”

Yuuri’s eyes shot up. “A month.”

Hank stared back. “That’s what I said.”

Yuuri’s hand trembled as he put his half-empty glass down on the sideboard. “You may be the boss of the other men here, but you’re not the boss of me. I’ll come back when I’m ready, not when you decide for me.”

“Goddamn it, Yuuri,” Hank said, slamming his own glass down so that the liquid in it sloshed over the side. “I’ve had enough of your lip. You’re always stirring up arguments with me these days. I’m your father and I’m telling you to haul your ass back over here in four weeks’ time, you understand?”

Yuuri’s cheeks pinked, but he held Hank’s gaze. “And you seem to forget I’m twenty-five, not five. Talk like that won’t wash anymore. I’ll come back here when I’m ready, and not a day before.”

After a pause, Hank said, “Has that Victor put you up to this? He been filling your ears with some kind of nonsense about how you’re indispensable over there, or how you’re going to get famous riding in rodeos or something? Is that what this is about?”

Yuuri’s heart leaped into his throat, and his mouth went dry. “You leave him out of this. Victor has _nothing_ to do with it – nothing!”

“Seems to me like I’ve hit a sore spot. You go and tell him you belong over here. They don’t need two master horsemen when I’ve got none because my own son up and left.”

Yuuri stood quietly, his chest heaving. Slowly he willed the blood in his veins to stop boiling. He swallowed. “You’re a bitter old man,” he bit out.

“And you’re a fucking ungrateful son.” A vein in Hank’s neck pulsed purple. “Your mother and I adopted you when no one else would. We raised you, got your citizenship – which is a damn fine thing for someone in your position to have, let me tell you; and you know you’re my only heir. Is a little respect so much to ask from you after everything we’ve done?”

“Is a little warmth so much to ask from _you_?” Yuuri countered. “That’s what I needed all those years. But I guess you wouldn’t understand.” He heaved a shaky sigh.

“What the Sam Hill are you talking about? We took care of you, gave you our time and money, and no one could accuse us of not being generous. Since you’re twenty-five, as you were so eager to remind me, maybe you should act like it, instead of like some spoiled kid for whom nothing is ever enough.”

“This conversation is going nowhere.” Yuuri put his coat and hat on.

“You always do this. You always walk away. If you do it again now, so help me – ”   

“What?” Yuuri interrupted, staring at him flatly. “What will you do?”

Hank was silent as Yuuri left, pulling the front door shut behind him.


	42. Chapter 42

Victor was grooming Luchik in his stall when Yuuri returned to the stable at the Circle C. His journey back had been quiet – the wind calm, no one else on the road, nothing to hear but the steady clop of Biscuit’s hooves; and it mirrored his own thoughts, which were strangely muted as well. Nothing about the conversation he’d just had with his father had surprised him, but it felt like getting it over with had begun to shed light on other half-formed ideas that he’d previously struggled to pull into the open. He couldn’t articulate it yet, but there was a definite process unfolding, and he thought he might come to understand it better given a little more time.

Victor immediately put his brush down as Yuuri led Biscuit into her stall, and came around to join him, looking concerned. The rush of warmth that suffused Yuuri upon seeing him practically made him feel dizzy. Surely there was nothing better in the world than this. They embraced, Yuuri clinging to Victor tightly.

“Hey, baby,” Victor whispered into his hear. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Kiss me. Please,” Yuuri said, tilting his head up; and Victor didn’t hesitate. It was long and slow and comforting.

“I guess I don’t need to ask how it went,” Victor said, pulling away to look at him.

“It was predictable. He wants me back at the Rafter T in a month. I told him I’ll come back when I’m ready, and not before. We didn’t really get any further than that. Certainly wasn’t worth riding over there for.”

Victor raised his eyebrows. “A month?”

“I am _not_ going back there in a month,” Yuuri said firmly, running a finger down Victor’s cheek. “I…I just need some time to think, and I might be able to see my way to making a few decisions.” When Victor’s expression clouded, he added, “Don’t worry. We’ll talk…and when we do, I think we may finally get somewhere.” He smiled.

***

That evening, Yuuri was going through his routine on the rings by the light of his lantern when Chris entered the stable. He called a quick greeting to Yuuri, then went to the stall where he kept his black-and-white paint horse. Victor, who had been exercising as well most evenings lately in preparation for the rodeo, had been called to the ranch house to talk with Abe about various aspects of business involving the horses, and had said he would join Yuuri if he got finished at a decent hour.

Curious about what Chris was doing, and feeling partial to some company, Yuuri dropped down from the rings and went over to the stall, where Chris had put his lantern on the shelf and was trying to work by its light. “I’ve got my lantern here – would it help if I held it up so you could see better?” Yuuri offered.

“Huh? Oh – yeah, sure. I ain’t interruptin’ your session over there, I hope.”

“No. I’ve done enough for today anyway. So what brings you out here at this time of night?”

“Oh, just stuff I’ve been puttin’ off for a while ’cause I been so goddamn busy. Now Domino here’s got a hoof crack, so I gotta take him to the blacksmith and get a coupla staples in there to hold things together ’til the damage grows out. He weren’t very well for a while, went off his food, and I think he weren’t gettin’ enough nutrition. I gotta ask Victor what I can feed him to beef him back up some. He around here?”

“No, he’s gone to see Abe.”

“Never mind. If you carry on holdin’ that lantern up, I’ll put some putty on my buddy’s hoof here, then see to a coupla things on my saddle. Jest move it over to the right a little – there ya go.”

Yuuri watched him. As Chris applied the putty, he said, “I hear Jeff Friedman’s hangin’ around these parts again.”

“Um – yeah, he’s working at the Rafter T. I guess you remember him from when he worked here.”

“With Zach an’ your pal Phichit over there, word usually gets to me about stuff. So you know he an’ Victor used to be a couple.”

“Victor told me, yeah.”

“An’ you went an’ got him a job at your dad’s ranch.”

“Yes. He needed work.”

“Oh, I heard all about that. I think you did him a real good turn. Mighty kind of you, considerin’ who he is an’ all.”

“Why should that have stopped me?”

Chris glanced at him. “You didn’t feel jealous none?”

Yuuri was taken aback, then huffed a laugh. “If you’d seen the state he was in at the time, maybe you would’ve wanted to help him too. But no, Victor and I are good, so I’m not scared he’s going to run away with anybody any time soon, even an ex.” Sean the gunslinging deputy sprang, unwelcome, to mind briefly, but Yuuri kicked him back out. Oklahoma was a long way away, besides.

“That Jeff never had the sense god gave a goose, nohow. Anyways, I think you two _are_ good,” Chris said in a serious tone as he worked. “You been good for Victor, Yuuri. He was a pretty lonely guy before you came along. I kept tryin’ to get him to come with me an’ Zach into town, y’know to let his hair down an’ have some fun sometimes, maybe meet someone, but he was losin’ interest – in that; in a lot of thangs. But now…I ain’t never seen his face so lit up.” He finished with the can of putty and put it away, then started fiddling with a strap on his saddle. “Y’all must be treatin’ him pretty good.”

Yuuri thought about this as he watched Chris, a wistful grin on his face. Victor had done so much for him; it was gratifying to know that somehow he’d touched Victor’s life as well, and seemingly made him happier. He hated to imagine him feeling alone in a place like this.

“Chris,” he said, “I hope you don’t mind me asking you a personal question, but I wonder sometimes how you and Zach have gotten along so well all this time. Several years, Victor said.”

“Huh? Well, yeah, I guess you could say it’s been pretty smooth sailin’ for us. But maybe that’s ’cause we’re apart so much of the time that we’re allus pleased to see each other when we meet up.”

“Have you…ever thought about leaving the ranches and getting a place together?”

Chris looked at him keenly, then turned back to his saddle. “So that’s it, is it? Naw, we ain’t interested in that. Decided a long time ago. First, we gotta both make sure we kin make ends meet – money’s pretty handy. Second, we like bein’ around people, which we are on the ranches, and wouldn’t be if we was holed up somewheres, just the two of us. Third, bein’ apart most of the time an’ workin’ on separate ranches means nobody tends to suspect what we’re gettin’ up to, if ya know what I mean. Fourth – am I on fourth? – they say absence makes the heart grow fonder, an’ fer us that’s pretty true. After a while apart, we’re both gaspin’ for it, an’ when we meet up we usually end up havin’ a pretty wild time, if ya get my meanin’.”

Yuuri blushed and laughed, though Chris didn’t bat an eyelid and carried on fitting a new strap to his saddle. “I never thought of some of those things before.”

“Take some advice from me, then,” Chris said, looking up at Yuuri and pointing a finger in the air sagely. “The way to your lover’s heart is through his dick, an’ if ya starve it for a while, he’ll be putty in yer hands, an’ he’ll do anythang ya ask him to.”

Yuuri could feel his cheeks turning from pink to red and gave him a bemused grin, unsure of what to say. “OK,” he finally commented.

“Though I kin imagine it’d be hard to do that with Victor around. I mean dang, if he was my guy, I’d be pokin’ him ten times a day if I could.”

Yuuri’s eyebrows shot up. “ _Chris –_ ”

He laughed. “Don’t worry, I ain’t got no designs on him. But he’s the prettiest thang that ever walked, if ya ask me. Ya must’ve noticed. No one got any right to be that pretty.”

“Oh I noticed,” Yuuri said with a chuckle. “The very first time I saw him. I thought I must be dreaming.”

“An’ in his case, he’s jest as pretty on the inside as on the outside, or at least I suspect that’s the case, which it ain’t with a lot of pretty people. You’re one lucky guy, Yuuri Taylor.”

“I am,” Yuuri said quietly, resting an arm on the wall of the stall and smiling to himself.

***

“Here.” Yuuri brought Biscuit to a halt and dismounted.

Victor slid off Luchik and took in their surroundings as they both staked out their horses. They’d climbed a wooded hill, and a gap in the trees nearby provided a spectacular view of a huge expanse of open range sprawling to the west, bordered by the mountains. A gentle breeze blew, and the sun shone bright, though Victor knew the temperature would plummet overnight. It was a Saturday, and it had been Yuuri’s idea to forsake the grotto for the trip out they’d decided to have and go someplace else where they were far enough away from the ranch to enjoy some privacy, and where they could build a fire to keep them warm, which was still a luxury when they weren’t in the bunkhouse.

“I found this place last year before the snow came,” Yuuri said, coming to stand next to Victor and gazing with him across the vista. “I thought it was beautiful. Seems dry enough up here – there’s even some snowdrops growing in the grass.”

“It’s breathtaking,” Victor said, slipping an arm around Yuuri’s waist and kissing his temple. “Though we’d better build the fire well away from the clearing here on the edge of the hill, or we’ll be making a beacon that’ll be visible for miles around.”

“Good idea. Will you walk with me? Then maybe we’d better gather some firewood.”

They discovered a little stream bubbling over a pebbly bed, with dappled sunlight shining through the gaps in the canopy of leaves overhead and sparkling on the clear ripples as they ran. Yuuri and Victor lounged on an outcrop of flat tan-colored rocks and watched and listened, chatting about whatever took their fancy – the upcoming rodeo, what to do on their next trip to town, the most recent news from Phichit and Zach and Jeff. Then Yuuri said he’d been seeing more of Hajimu than usual.

“I wanted to cook dinner for us tonight, and he’s been helping me brush up my cooking skills,” he said.

“I didn’t know there was anything wrong with them.” They were sitting side by side now, their denim-cad legs stretched out in front of them. It was still cold enough for them to be wearing their winter coats.  

“Flatterer,” Yuuri chuckled. “You remember how we agreed last year, that time we were in the grotto and you brought all that food and drink, that I’d get to decide on our next date idea? I’d been hoping I could learn how to cook us something really nice. Hajimu knows how to make all kinds of Japanese food, but the problem is you can’t get the ingredients here. I wish I knew about Russian food too, but I’m afraid cowboy grub is about all I understand, so we’ve been working on that together.”

“Yuuri. You sound almost apologetic. I’m sure anything you make will be lovely. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Then before we eat, you can say _itadakimasu_ , which expresses your thanks to the person who prepared the meal. And after you’ve eaten, you say _gochiso sama deshita_ , which means, ‘It was quite a feast.’ Because naturally my cooking’s going to be wonderful,” he said with a grin.

Victor tried and struggled to remember and pronounce the words, both of them ending up laughing, with Yuuri confessing that Hajimu had told him he had a dreadful American accent, which was ridiculous in itself because of the Japanese inflection he gave to his English at times. Victor declared it would only be fair for Yuuri to learn a little Russian as well, and so they worked on food-related words and phrases in that language until Yuuri had to admit he felt he’d butchered it badly enough for one day. “I don’t think I’m very good at this,” he chuckled, “but I’d still like to be able to speak more Russian with you. There must be books out there, if you know how to find them.”

“I’m touched,” Victor said, feeling warmth in his chest at the notion of Yuuri wanting to learn more of his language just to be able to speak it with him. “I’ll have a think about that and see what I can come up with.” He felt a tickle on his shirt just below his bandanna and saw Yuuri tucking something into the opening. “What’s that?”

“Snowdrops.” Yuuri smiled and showed him a handful that he’d obviously been plucking while they’d been talking; a cluster of them grew in the grass that fringed the rocks they were sitting on. He took several by the stem and reached up to place them behind Victor’s ear, then sat back and looked at him fondly. “They suit you, Vitya. I wish you could see.”

“It feels like I’m the Queen of the May,” he said with an amused grin. “Though that’s not a tradition in this country, is it? And it’s not May yet.”

“Well I can’t imagine anyone who’d look more suitable, man or woman,” Yuuri said, draping his arms over Victor’s shoulders. “You…you’re so beautiful.” He leaned in and took Victor’s lips in a soft kiss. He was developing an easy confidence with this kind of thing as time went on, Victor reflected, and it was sexy as hell – he was absolutely melting in it.

“I noticed you’re wearing your jeans,” he observed when Yuuri drew back slightly. “I can’t remember the last time you had them on.”

“They’re tight,” Yuuri said with a crooked grin, inches from his lips. “That makes them a little uncomfortable.”

“That makes them perfect.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that was what you’d planned all along.”

“As soon as I saw them in the store, I thought we could drive each other crazy with them.” He gave a low chuckle. “That works for me.”

“The fact that they’re meant to be hard-wearing clothes for the working man’s got nothing to do with it.”

“Of course not. That’s just a bonus.”

Yuuri continued to smile as he closed the distance between them again and reclaimed Victor’s mouth, licking into it as Victor gave him access. Soon they were embracing and moaning into the kiss, their tongues touching and caressing. Victor shoved both hands into the pockets on Yuuri’s backside and bucked hard against him. Yuuri made a sound like he’d just had the breath knocked out of his lungs.

“Hey lover boy,” Yuuri whispered a hair’s breadth from his lips, “you’re going to have to be patient.”

“Really? Why?”

“Because we haven’t got the oil here – it’s in the saddlebags where we staked out the horses.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t do other things.”

“It’s cold. And I am _not_ going to do anything that means I have to take my jeans off and wash them in the freezing creek.”

“Spoilsport,” Victor huffed, but he quirked a grin. “I suppose it _would_ be nicer in front of the fire.”

“Once we’ve gathered some firewood – and I’ve still got to make us dinner. I guess we’d better get moving if we don’t want to be eating at midnight.”

There was actually still light in the sky when they finished eating and sat on the grass next to each other, their backs to the fire, looking out across the rolling plain to the purple ghosts of mountains in the distance, and the blaze of pink and orange behind them. Once they had gathered enough wood for laying a fire and keeping it stoked up, Yuuri had made them a meal of cowpuncher stew and cornbread, finished with sweet potato pie. He’d left the meat stewing overnight in the cook shack so that it would be tender when the other ingredients were thrown in, and had baked the cornbread that morning with Hajimu. The sweet potato pie, Yuuri confessed, had been bought from the bakery in town. He’d also gotten from Lennie at the Wagon Wheel some malty beer from a local brewery, and they’d sat drinking a bottle each after they’d finished their coffee. Yuuri apologized for how basic it all was, but Victor had insisted it was delicious, and nothing fancier was required. He helped Yuuri clean everything afterwards; and now as they watched the sun going down, they each put an arm around the other, and Yuuri rested his head against Victor’s shoulder.

“I’ve lived here most of my life, and I still can’t get over how beautiful it is sometimes,” Yuuri spoke into the quiet of the evening.

“I can understand that. It’s…like there’s some amazing show going on just out of reach behind the mountains; they stand there in your way and stop you from going to find out. You know that if you _did_ go, you’d just find ordinary daylight anyway. But…I don’t know.” He gave a little shrug. “It feels like there’s something sad about the light dying out like that over there, and having to wait all night before it shows up again on the opposite side of the horizon. Then again, it’s comforting to know, too, that it’s always going to happen – it always comes back, to do it all over again.”

Yuuri smiled. “I never thought of it that way before. Maybe because I don’t usually get up early enough to see too many sunrises. But yeah…sunsets like this make me feel kind of sad too, like the ending to a good book. Talking about that, _did_ your French book have a good ending? You finished it, didn’t you?”

“A good ending, yes. A happy one? Not so much. It’s a very good book, though. We’ll have to find you a copy in English.”   

“Yeah.” They sat in contented silence for a while, then Yuuri gave Victor’s waist a squeeze and kissed his shoulder, though it was wrapped in his sheepskin coat. “I want to stay here with you forever, Victor,” he said wistfully.

Victor looked at him. “I’d like that too.”

“Whatever it takes.” He paused. “I don’t care about the ranch.”

“Hm?” Victor wrinkled his brow, wondering which ranch and what Yuuri meant.

“The ranch. My parents’ ranch. It doesn’t matter to me whether I inherit it or not. It’s not important.”

Victor dropped his arms away and drew back, studying Yuuri’s face. It was shadowed in the fading light of the sun, but his eyes still shone. “It…it’s not important?” he echoed.

Yuuri laughed, a happy silvery sound that was like sweet music. “It took me long enough to work it out, but yeah…my dad can go take a hike for all I care. As long as he’s dangling the promise of the ranch in front of me, he knows he’s got the power to make me do what he wants. But without that? He’s got nothing.” He looked steadily at Victor, whose heart was soaring with sudden joy. Was he really hearing this? “I’ve been thinking about it since I got back from my last trip over there. I mean, I could be waiting years to inherit the ranch, and in the meantime I’d be obliged to carry on some kind of relationship with him. Well I’ve always felt obliged anyway, because they’re my folks. But I’m not happy being around them, and I don’t see any sense in carrying on that way – if the only reason I was doing it was because I wanted the ranch off them…well it’s a pretty hypocritical thing to do. It feels all wrong. I…I don’t want to live like that.”

Victor tried to quell the giddiness welling up inside of him – it was important to work this through with a clear head. As much as he hated it, he felt it was necessary to play devil’s advocate again, if nothing more than to make sure Yuuri had thought carefully about this. “You’d be giving up a lot,” he said quietly. “I mean, I know how difficult things are between you and your dad. But like you said before, the ranch provides a secure income. You’ve been looking forward to running it. What would you do without that?”

“Stay with you,” Yuuri replied earnestly, his eyes wide and determined. “That is…if you’ll have me. Just plain Yuuri. I guess being the boss’s son and heir has always given me a sense of power and importance, and I’d be giving that up. What’s left of me then? I think…I think I was afraid that if those things were taken away, you wouldn’t be interested in me anymore. But I think I know you well enough by now to hazard a guess that it was a silly thing to be afraid of.” There was a questioning tone in his voice, however. 

“ _Yuuri_ …oh god, how can you even _say_ such a thing. There _is_ no ‘just plain Yuuri.’ ” Victor leaned forward and gathered him in his arms, kissing his hair, his forehead. “You don’t know how happy it makes me to hear all this. I just want to know that you’re sure.”

“Of course I’m sure,” Yuuri said, huffing a laugh and hugging Victor back. “I told you, you’ve always been the most important thing. I don’t know what we’re going to end up doing, but I just want to be with you.”

“I don’t know either. I guess that’s something we can hash out together. But…Christ, Yuuri, I…I’m so glad.” Laughter bubbled up from inside of him, and he sank down to the ground, pulling a giggling Yuuri with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cowpuncher Stew
> 
>  _Ingredients_  
>  2 lbs. beef stew meat, cut into one-inch cubes  
> 1 ½ cups strongly brewed coffee  
> 2 tbsp. molasses  
> 1 tsp. salt  
> 1 tsp. garlic salt  
> 1/8 tsp. cayenne pepper  
> Flour – enough to coat meat  
> 1 ½ cups water  
> 5 carrots, cut into ½ inch slices  
> 2 onions, cut into large pieces  
> 3 potatoes, peeled and cut up
> 
>  _Instructions_  
>  In a large pot, brown meat on all sides, after coating it with flour and salt. Stir in coffee, molasses, garlic salt, and cayenne pepper. Cover and simmer over low heat until meat is tender, about 1 ½ hours. Add the water and veg; cover and simmer for another 30 minutes. Thicken with ¼ cup water and 3 tbsp. flour. Cook until stew is thick and bubbly.
> 
> Source: _Romancing the West: From the Prairie Grass to the Pantry_ by Frances A. Gillette
> 
> ( _n.b. I was too timid to make this with anything other than very weak coffee, but that combined with the molasses and the other flavors is surprisingly lovely. I used beef stock/broth in place of the water, and extra salt plus some black pepper. Fresh herbs like sage, rosemary or thyme would probably also go well with it._ )
> 
> Old-fashioned Cornbread
> 
>  _Ingredients_  
>  3 cups (15 oz.) stone-ground cornmeal  
> 2 tsp. salt  
> 2 tsp. baking powder  
> ¾ tsp. baking soda  
> 3 tsp sugar (optional)  
> 2 ½ cups buttermilk  
> 3 eggs  
> 1 ½ cups butter, melted
> 
>  _Instructions_  
>  Place a well-seasoned 12-inch cast iron skillet on the center rack of the oven and preheat oven to 375°F (190°C/gas mark 5).
> 
> Meanwhile, in a large bowl, whisk cornmeal with salt, baking powder, baking soda, and sugar (if using).
> 
> In a separate bowl, whisk buttermilk with eggs until homogenous. Whisking constantly, drizzle in all but 1 tablespoon melted butter.
> 
> Whisk liquid ingredients into dry ingredients just until thoroughly mixed; avoid over-mixing.
> 
> Pour remaining 1 tablespoon melted butter into preheated skillet and carefully swirl to coat bottom and sides. Scrape batter into prepared skillet, smoothing the top gently with a rubber spatula. Bake until cornbread is lightly browned on top and a skewer inserted into center comes out clean, about 45 minutes.
> 
> Let cool for about 15 minutes in skillet, then serve warm. (Cornbread does not keep well and will lose its texture as it cools, so it’s best to eat it while it’s still fresh.)
> 
> [Source](http://www.seriouseats.com/recipes/2015/11/southern-unsweetened-cornbread-recipe.html)
> 
> ( _n.b. All the cornbread recipes I’ve used in the past contain quite a lot of sugar or honey or similar, but back in the 1800s it would not have been so sweet. I’m keen to try this one out. The ‘read story’ link on the website above gives some interesting historical info. I must apologize, as well, for going to and fro between Imperial and metric measurements; I have recipes from both the US and the UK._ )


	43. Chapter 43

In the days that followed, though they put extra effort into practicing for the rodeo, they also spent moments together dreaming about their future. They agreed that there was no hurry to leave the ranch, but eventually they wanted – _needed –_ someplace that offered them more privacy. Yuuri found Victor’s enthusiasm infectious as he talked more about what it would be like to have a place of their own. Their own bed in their own room; their own little stable for their horses; their own vegetable patch. He’d cook them borscht, and Yuuri would whittle decorations to put on the windowsills. Friends would come to visit them and stay. They’d have a cow and chickens, and they’d go hunting and fishing. It sounded to Yuuri like paradise, if he didn’t look too closely at the shadows in the corners. The fact that they would need to make money. That while it wasn’t unknown for two men to live together, it would still cause speculation, and it was a risk. That they would both be more isolated than they were on the ranch, and they’d never have family of their own to ease it. Yuuri wondered if there was a way for them to work _on_ a ranch without _living_ there, though that would be highly unusual. More of a fantasy would be for them to buy a ranch of their own; but even if they had that kind of money, they would encounter the same problems as if Yuuri had inherited his parents’ ranch, chief among them being how to live together without arousing suspicion.

Still, he felt it had been a significant step forward for him to decide that he wouldn’t be a puppet on a string for his father any longer, even if an uncomfortable sense of powerlessness had come along with it. He had to trust, like Phichit had said, that love would find a way. In the meantime, there being no pressing reason why he needed to leave the Circle C anymore, he thought maybe they could make the most of the warm summer weather and enjoy the intimacy that had been denied them for the past several months. Even the rundown shack that Victor had taken them to last year, which he’d initially objected so strongly to, didn’t sound so bad anymore as a place to go where they could be together.

They made sure they had tame mustangs ready for the spring trail drive, and gave what assistance they could without leaving the ranch for long periods at a time. Yuuri spent just about every spare moment he had practicing on Biscuit in the corral, though he continued to attend his ballet lessons as usual as well. Clarissa appeared to have recovered from her ordeal and was no longer showing any outward sign of what had happened, though Yuuri wasn’t so sure that the inner wounds had healed. She kept her own counsel about this, however, and was not inclined to discuss it.

A week before the rodeo, Yuuri worked hard with her to limber up and perfect his poses. They were sharing their customary drink on the sofa afterward when she suddenly said, “Yuuri, I think this oughta be our last lesson together.”

He almost spat out the gin he’d been swilling in his mouth. “Pardon?”

“Look, honey, it ain’t that I don’t enjoy your company. Quite the opposite, in fact. You and Victor are some of the nicest guys I ever met. Real gentlemen. But…” She sipped at her drink with a thoughtful look. “…well, I ain’t never been trained as a teacher, and my own formal ballet training ended a long time ago. I’ve taught you everything I know. From here on out, all you gotta do is practice.”

Yuuri couldn’t find any words. He sat in silence for a moment, then said, “I don’t think that matters. Coming here, seeing you – it gives me motivation.”

“Honey, you don’t need no motivation. When you put your mind to something, you’re as driven as all get out. Why spend the time comin’ here and payin’ me for nothing?”

“I’m _not_ paying you for nothing.”

“It ain’t right. Unless you decided you wanna start availin’ yourself of the other services I offer.” When he didn’t reply, she laughed and said, “I didn’t think so. Look, I was gettin’ by before you started payin’ me, and I’ll get by after. You take what you learned here and use it. You and Victor…I don’t know what you two got planned, but you’re beautiful together. I wish I could see you both on the stage.”

“That’s what I was thinking when the two of you were dancing together Christmas Eve.”

“That’s sweet. Maybe in another life I’ll get another chance.”

Yuuri’s heart was aching. His lessons with Clarissa had become as much a staple of his life as brushing his teeth or oiling his saddle. He had gotten so used to her abrasive charm and jaded flirtatiousness that he’d found himself actually looking forward to them as a welcome change. And underneath it all was a kind-hearted, talented woman who’d been dealt an abysmal hand by fate. He felt tears prick his eyes.

“We’ve got two more lessons scheduled before the rodeo on Sunday,” he said. “At least let’s do those. I’m nervous, and coming here helps. I’ll get a good workout, stay limbered up, and you can tell me what I need to improve on.” That would buy some time, if nothing else.

She stared at him over her glass and smiled. “OK, cowboy. It’s a deal.” 

***

Morning dawned clear and cool on Sunday. Uncharacteristically, Yuuri was up to watch it, having awakened early and not been able to get back to sleep. Victor had found him pacing around outside the bunkhouse, lost in his thoughts, and had attempted to kiss away his nerves, but it didn’t help much, however welcome the kisses were.

“Do you want to come with me to get some breakfast?” Victor asked him.

Yuuri shook his head. “I can’t. My stomach’s tied in knots.”

“Oh Yuuri. You’re going to be fantastic today. You’ve been practicing so hard, and you’ve been looking wonderful out there in the corral. I’ve got every faith in you.”

“I guess it’ll have to be enough for both of us, because I can’t seem to find much for myself.”

Victor gave him a hug. “It _is_ enough. I’m going to go have a bite, then I’ll meet you at the stable, OK?”

“OK.” Yuuri watched him go and folded his arms across his chest. It hadn’t helped that Clarissa really had meant what she’d said about finishing their lessons. For their last time together, he’d brought her some of Lennie’s best bourbon as a present, along with coffee and a few other items from the Chulanonts’ store, and they’d shared hugs and shed tears, and then…it was over. She said he and Victor were welcome to visit – but when would that be convenient? he wondered. And he was still frustrated about having to cease the admittedly small income he’d been providing her with. It felt like he’d suddenly been shoved out into the cold and the door slammed in his face in the politest possible way. Before he’d gone, he’d asked her again to come and watch the rodeo, though he’d received no definite answer.

Victor seemed to think it might soothe Yuuri’s nerves if they did a little last-minute practice in the corral, but Yuuri soon gave it up and decided to simply take Biscuit for a bareback ride on his own and let the bleak vastness of the open range sink into his bones and help him to settle. He saw a red-tailed hawk and a bald eagle, rode past the foxes’ den where there were kits again this year, and watched a herd of deer cross the plain. The ranch and the rodeo seemed a world away, and it was a comfort for a while. When he returned to the stable, he gave Victor a smile and said he was ready. Victor was holding Cookie. He kissed him, asked Yuuri to kiss him too, then with sparkling eyes put him in his saddlebag for luck.

They traveled to the fairground in town with Chris, and met up with Phichit, Zach and Jeff when they arrived. Yuuri went around visiting the vendors’ stalls as he had the previous year, though while the others bought snacks and drinks, he still couldn’t bear to let anything pass his lips, and sat stiffly on the edge of the bench while they watched the bronc riders. Victor viewed them with a thin-lipped, disapproving expression, and Yuuri knew he was angry about wild horses being treated in such a way. As the trick riding competition approached, both of them said goodbye to their comrades and made their way to the competitors’ area, where their horses were waiting.

“Have you ever been to a rodeo?” Phichit asked Jeff as he ate his popcorn.

Jeff nodded. “I watched Victor one year. He was mag…um, he was really good.”

“He seems to be plannin’ something different this time,” Chris observed. “I kept seein’ him practice in the corral without a saddle.”

“Yuuri was doing that too, when we went to the Circle C last time,” Phichit said. “You remember, Jeff? He was standing on Biscuit’s back. I wonder what they’re up to.”

They had a while to wait, because their friends appeared to be the last acts. The other competitors did rope tricks, gymnastics and some vaulting, but they knew the real treat was yet to come. “I’m surprised Yuuri wants to compete against Victor,” Phichit observed as they waited.

“Maybe he reckons he’s learned enough from him by now to give it a try,” Chris answered. “Why not? It’s all in fun anyway.”

The deep-voiced emceé announced through his megaphone, “And last but not least, from the Circle C ranch here in Larkspur, Victor Nikiforov and Yuuri Taylor – give ’em a round of applause, ladies and gentlemen, as they ride in!”

“What, both of them?” Phichit said as they clapped. Zach shushed him.

And through the gate, into the corral, they emerged. Both were standing on their horses’ bare backs, Victor wearing last year’s costume of the scarlet shirt and jacket with billowing sleeves and gold piping, black pants and knee-high brown leather boots; Yuuri matching him perfectly. Both held a curved silver sword, which they waved as they twirled around on their cantering horses as if they were dancing, each mirroring the movements of the other. The crowd erupted into a delighted roar, including their four comrades from the Rafter T and Circle C, who stood and cheered. Phichit punched his fist in the air and shouted encouragement to Yuuri that was quickly lost in the din. Chris, next to him, was shaking his head and muttering, “Son of a gun.”

When the noise of the crowd died down a little, the lilting notes from a violin could be heard singing out; a man dressed in black pants and a plain white shirt standing next to the gate was playing an accompaniment to the performance. As the music wove its way around the arena, so did Victor and Yuuri, their arms and legs tracing patterns in the air while their horses raced under them. Eventually they tossed the swords to the middle of the circle and, as Biscuit drew parallel to Luchik, Yuuri and Victor somersaulted into the air simultaneously to land on the horse opposite. Victor then somersaulted again so that he was standing in front of Yuuri on Luchik, while Biscuit was led out of the arena and back through the gate. 

Pausing for only a moment, Victor lifted Yuuri in one lithe movement onto his shoulders, as the violin music shifted to a more plaintive melody. Yuuri raised an arm and smiled at the audience as Luchik rode around the ring. Then Victor gave him a boost and he was standing on his shoulders, again waving as applause rained down.

“Holy fuck,” Chris breathed, watching them balance on the horse. His companions looked at him and laughed.

The cape-like swath of material at the backs of Yuuri’s and Victor’s jackets billowed out behind them as the violin held a long, mellow note. Then Victor helped Yuuri climb down and, standing side by side on Luchik’s back, they bent into forward-facing handstands, keeping their bodies in vertical alignment as the horse continued to canter. When they were again upright, the violinist began to play music fitting for a square dance, in quick time; they each theatrically stomped a leg, taking care not to do it too hard onto Luchik’s back, and then Yuuri locked his hands under Victor’s arms and spun him in a full circle, Victor’s feet lifting completely off the horse and gliding through the air until they anchored again at the end. Then Victor did the same to Yuuri. Both of them had begun to smile like they were having the time of their lives as they repeated the motions, and the audience was again roaring and clapping so much that the violin accompaniment could barely be heard.

“Oh my god,” Phichit said as he watched. “Did you see them practicing any of this, Chris? Why didn’t you say?”

“Naw, I didn’t. They musta been really sneaky about it – I don’t think _anyone_ saw ’em. If they did, it woulda been all over the ranch. Lord a’mighty, I ain’t never seen anything like it.”

“Wow, Yuuri,” Phichit mumbled to himself. “Look at you.”

As the violin notes evened out into softer waves again, Yuuri lowered Victor head first down the side of Luchik, releasing his hands and grabbing hold of one leg, while Victor flexed the other at the knee and struck an elegant pose as he hung upside down and trailed his fingers lightly in the dirt while Luchik raced along. Then Yuuri helped him up and they switched so that Yuuri was suspended in the same way. After a moment of simply standing one behind the other and waving to the audience, they performed dipping arabesques in opposite directions. Then they began to dance like they had so many times before with each other, in time with the gliding melody of the violin. As their gazes locked, they circled around each other, dipped and spun, lifted each other at the waist and twirled, balancing on Luchik’s back all the while. This continued for a couple of minutes before the music changed completely, a bouncing polka song now filling the arena as Yuuri’s and Victor’s movements became more lively, Victor helping Yuuri to slip in one fluid movement through his legs to end up behind him. Then Victor crouched slightly, grabbing Yuuri’s hands, and vaulted into the air over Yuuri’s head, somersaulting twice before landing on two feet behind Luchik. The crowd cheered, and Yuuri did a backflip to end up next to Victor; they held hands and raised them up between them, smiling and waving as the violin was yet again drowned out by the roar in the arena.   

“You guys have got a lotta nerve to try some of that stuff on in front of all these people,” Chris said in a low voice.

“You think it was a bit risqué?” Phichit said.

“I dunno. Maybe them two’s got more guts than sense, but that ain’t how I figured them to be. Anyway, that show they just put on was so goddamn beautiful, I doubt if it matters none.”

***

After making sure Biscuit and Luchik were well stabled, Yuuri grabbed Victor’s jacket by the opening in the front, pulled him around the corner into a quiet niche, and kissed him fervently. “That was the _best_ ,” he said with a bright smile, tears welling in his eyes. “Oh, Victor…I could die happy right now.”

“Don’t say that, my love,” Victor replied, kissing his cheek and then his forehead. “I want to spend years with you yet.”

They were interrupted by an announcement over the megaphone that the judges had almost arrived at a decision. “We’d better get back,” Yuuri said, taking Victor’s hand and pulling him along.

When they got to the arena, they spotted their four friends in the audience near the barrier to the ring, and waved to them as they stood next to the gate. Yuuri had also been very pleased to see Clarissa; her red hair piled on top of her head had stood out. She was smiling like he’d never seen her smile before, like a little girl watching a spectacular show; and she waved to him as well.

Yuuri squeezed Victor’s hand. Whatever else happened now, this was a moment he wanted to remember for the rest of his life. Six months ago he’d decided that instead of competing against Victor, he wanted to work together with him to develop a program that was as good as they could possibly make it. Winning didn’t matter; he simply wanted to feel like they’d achieved something special. Together. Victor had been delighted with the idea, and as they were already well versed in how to avoid being caught in an intimate moment on the ranch, it had been second nature to hide what they were preparing for the rodeo from prying eyes.

Both of them had initially been inspired with a flood of thoughts about what they could do; it had been a challenge to narrow down the possibilities and then refine them. Victor had been the one to suggest getting Yuuri a costume that matched what he himself had worn the previous year. It felt like an honor to be asked to stand on an equal footing to Victor in such a way – and in those spectacular clothes, too…there was something deeply, tantalizingly sensual about it. They’d struggled to concentrate on practicing at the ranch whenever they’d put them on, and took great pleasure in taking them off each other again; just the thought of it sent a pulse of heat to Yuuri’s groin. _Later_ , he told himself with a smile.

He thought it had been a stroke of genius for Victor to have hired the violinist from town, too; he knew Victor had often said that he wanted to see him perform to music, and now they both had. It seemed to add an extra dimension to the performance, and Yuuri could feel the notes of the violin washing over and through him as if they were carrying his own movements along in their wake.  

As nervous as Yuuri had felt beforehand, their routine had gone without a hitch. Pride had swelled within him – at what he was doing, and Victor’s part in it; as well as love for Victor himself, which had brimmed over into the euphoria he’d felt as they’d danced and flipped and spun on the horses. It all seemed like the most wonderful kind of magic. 

“We have a winner, ladies and gentlemen,” the emceé announced as a piece of paper was handed to him. “Please give a big around of applause to…Victor Nikiforov and Yuuri Taylor!”

As the crowd erupted into cheers, Victor gestured for Yuuri to collect the bucket of prize money that a clerical-looking fellow in a suit next to the emceé was holding. Yuuri started forward, then paused and whispered in Victor’s ear; Victor’s eyebrows lifted and he thought for a moment, then whispered back. When Yuuri had taken hold of the bucket, he waved at Clarissa. It took her a moment to understand what he wanted, and all eyes were upon them as the crowd began to hush. As he curled his fingers in an unmistakable “come down here” motion, she got up hesitantly and obliged, stopping to stand on the other side of the ring barrier in front of him.

“We’d like you to have this,” he said to her. “Do whatever you want to with it. We don’t need it.” And he handed the bucket over to her. She took the handle mechanically as a flurry of cheers and whistles rained down from all sides.

“What the hell…you can’t be serious,” she said.

“Please, Clarissa. I know it’s not a lot, but it’s something. Let us say thank you to you like this, if we can’t do anything else.”

“Why…” She lifted up the bucket and eyed it like she’d never seen anything so strange in her life. “Yuuri Taylor, you never stop surprisin’ me.” She lowered it back down and looked at him as tears began to slip down her cheeks. “Thank you. Thank you so much. And you,” she added more loudly to Victor, who stood some distance behind, and he nodded with a smile. “You lovely, lovely guys. I’m…I’m much obliged.”


	44. Chapter 44

Sam Stevens was dog-tired as he led his horse along the creek. This cowboy business was taking some getting used to. His family in Larkspur had encouraged him to find work on a ranch; his father had told him it would make a man out of him. What he hadn’t said was that it would involve sitting in the saddle for hours on end while it rained, or lying in a tent in below-zero weather, or eating beans every night for a week until you were sick of the sight of them. Sam didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life, being eighteen – but that was the problem; that was why he’d been so easily talked into coming here, when he was more sure every day that he didn’t belong. His dad had paintings and etchings and sculptures of cowboys riding bucking broncos and prancing around in chaps and fancy hats all over the house. No doubt he was hoping his son would fit into that mold one day. Sam reckoned he was due a good long chat with the Reverend Howell, who might give him some much-needed advice about how to get out of this mess.

He’d been getting his saddle repaired in Larkspur, and then had bumped into some colleagues from the Circle C. They’d insisted he have a drink with them, even though he wasn’t really used to it, and just wanted to leave. Finally he’d pulled himself away, though now he was trying to find his way back in the dark, without a lantern to guide him. He’d thought this creek would be a short cut if he followed it a ways, but soon regretted it and wished he’d stuck to the main road. He didn’t know where the creek met the Gypsum River, and he figured he could be riding all night and still not find it.

A whinnying noise caught his attention, and he stopped his horse and dismounted. Creeping closer, he heard more snorting noises, and was surprised to find two horses staked out and grazing on the thick grass next to the creek. All he could see by the light of the half-moon was that one of them was white and one was more off-color. Who would be out here in the middle of nowhere at this time of night? he wondered, staking out his own horse and looking carefully around. He didn’t see any lights that indicated buildings or campfires nearby, and there was no sign of a single solitary human being. Well these horses had to belong to _someone_. He listened carefully, but all he could hear was the gentle cascade of a waterfall nearby.

No, that wasn’t quite right. There was something besides the roar of the water – something faint, but audible. It sounded like…what? Men’s voices. But they weren’t talking. They were doing something else. What on earth – ?

“Holy sweet Jesus,” Sam murmured, creeping closer to the waterfall. The voices seemed to be coming from an area behind it, along with the faint yellow glow of a lantern that spilled through the gap between the water and the rock. A blush stained his cheeks as he listened. Not that he understood such things, being an upstanding Christian man as he was, but he was pretty sure there was no mistaking what these guys were getting up to. Just what kind of a secret den of vice had he stumbled across? He stood there and continued to listen, mesmerized as the gasps and moans and cries gradually got louder; and then one of them called out in a breathy voice, “Victor.” Trembling, and swallowing in a dry throat, he backed into some nearby bushes and ran a sweaty palm over his chin, trying to gather his thoughts.

There was a Victor at the Circle C. Tall, muscular guy with a somewhat feminine-looking face; _pretty_ was a good word for him. If that was him, who was he in there with?

His question was answered a few minutes later when the Japanese man from the Circle C stepped out from behind the waterfall, naked as the day he was born, and stood under the spray, running his hands through his hair. “When does this water warm up?” he called. “It still feels like it’s melted straight out of the mountains.”

 _Dear god in heaven,_ Sam thought. What was he supposed to do? He hadn’t asked to be landed in a situation like this. What was this guy’s name – ? He stuck to Victor a lot of the time, and here was the obvious reason why. Yuuri, that was it.

And then Victor himself walked out. The moonlight shone on his pale skin. He stood under the water as well, and he’d brought a bar of soap with him; the two of them started to wash each other as they talked. Sam looked down, his face hot. He thought he knew now what Lot’s wife must have felt like when she couldn’t resist turning around for a peek. It was horrific, what he’d discovered here, and yet compelling somehow too. Well, that was the nature of evil, he supposed, or else no one would be tempted by it. It was beautiful and seductive.

Sam switched between watching and averting his eyes until the two of them disappeared back behind the waterfall. Then he quickly unstaked his horse, mounted, and rode back in the direction from which he’d come. He burned all over. With shame and outrage.

***

“I want someone with a lick of sense to tell me what the hell’s going on and why I’m having to sit here today when there’s a dozen better things I should be doing,” Hank Taylor said, his gray eyes meeting those of the other men at the table. They were seated in the saloon at Sweetwater Sam’s – himself, Sam Stevens, the Reverend Howell, Ebenezer from the Circle C and his two sidekicks, and a few others from both ranches, though the group soon swelled as patrons of the saloon listened with interest to the discussion and gravitated into its orbit.

“Well…like Sam and I told you this morning, sir – ” the reverend began, but Hank cut him off.

“You came to my house and told me a lot of guff about this kid here making some serious accusations about my son. I said if you rounded up any more supposed witnesses and brought them here, I’d be willing to listen.” He paused and looked around again. “Seems like a real ragtag bunch you’ve put together, Reverend. What in Sam Hill is this all about?”

“Son, maybe you’d better repeat what you told me last night,” the reverend said. “Being mindful, of course, not to offend sensitive ears.”

The eponymous owner of the saloon guffawed as he ran a cloth over some shot glasses. “You won’t find none of those here. Go on – we’re all curious about this business, ain’t we?” he said, addressing the handful of men who were standing at the bar.

With a pink face and downcast eyes, Sam explained what he’d seen the previous night, before riding hell for leather back into town and finding the Reverend Howell, who he was sure would know how to handle the situation. They’d agreed to meet up the following morning and go straight to Yuuri’s father, but he’d been belligerent as soon as they’d tried to explain. The reverend had then offered to find men from both ranches who might be able to shed some further light on things, naming Sweetwater Sam’s as what he hoped would be an attractive venue for them to meet at; he and Sam had spent the morning doing this.

When Sam finished his story, to a chorus of gasps and whistles, the reverend added, “And after those two other misguided fellows were reprimanded for their behaviour last year, and I gave a sermon about that very thing.” He ran a large bony hand through his thinning blond hair. A tall, slim man in his fifties, with gray around his temples and eyes that could light up with the threat of damnation, he had earned the respect of many of the god-fearing folk of the town over the years.

“What behavior?” Sam asked. At that, a handful of men in the saloon joined the table and explained with relish how two cowboys had been arrested in the Wagon Wheel, put in jail, and lost their jobs at their ranch for kissing in public.

“Some people seem to be determined to carry on living in sin,” the reverend said, shaking his head.

“Is this a private meetin’, or can anybody join?” came a voice from the stairs as Clarissa entered the room, wearing a purple robe and high heels. She gave the men crowded at the table a glittering smile, then drifted over to the bar, wedging herself between two men in cowboy clothes.

“I have to say I regret my choice of venue,” the reverend sighed. “This house is full of vice. It’s the demon drink that starts many of these problems in the first place.”

“Look, Reverend, don’t sermonize us here, OK?” one of the men told him. “Let’s just get back to what we was talkin’ about.”

“I still haven’t heard anything convincing,” Hank said in a clipped tone. “You work at the Circle C, don’t you?” He eyed Sam. “Maybe you’ve got something against my son and are trying to tar his name for some reason – so prove to me that’s not the case, or I’m leaving.”

“Hey, guys,” Clarissa said as she passed by them again, this time with one of the men from the bar in tow, “I hope you ain’t up to no good over here. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She winked as she sashayed away and went back up the stairs, her companion following after making a rude gesture to the others that set some of them off laughing.

“You know, the reverend’s right,” a clean-cut man in a suit said, who’d obviously joined the table after the discussion had started. “We need to send out a message that this kind of thing won’t be tolerated. Something that people will listen to. What’s this town going to come to if people feel free to engage in whatever sick behavior they feel like, without any fear of the consequences?” There was a murmur of agreement.

“He’s right,” Ebenezer said in his deep voice. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes. The nerve some of these guys have got. Flauntin’ it in front of everybody. Now, take Victor – he was up to that stuff all the time with at least two different guys before Yuuri ever showed up on the scene.”

“Now hang on a minute,” said a red-haired man who was nursing a beer. “I don’t wanna interfere with stuff that ain’t my business, but at the same time, I’m gonna call a bald-faced lie when I see one.”

“Who’s this guy?” someone asked.

“My name’s Mike Tyler, from the Circle C. I heard you all talkin’ over here. I’ve worked with Victor the whole time he’s been on the ranch, and I’ve been pleased to share a hip flask on occasion with him and Yuuri in the bunkhouse, so I guess you could say I’m on companionable terms with ’em at least. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you still had a chip on your shoulder for the way Yuuri beat you up for callin’ him a Jap. I heard all about that.”

Someone laughed. “Sounds like he’s got you there, Ben.” Just about everyone in the saloon had now pulled up a chair, apart from “Sweetwater” Sam, who continued to hover behind the bar, though he was also listening intently.

“Didn’t you see them actually kiss each other that night we was all dancin’ in the bunkhouse?” said one of Ebenezer’s pals. Everyone looked at him. “Ben, you didn’t?” He paused. “Well I’m sure they did.” He folded his arms and looked around defiantly. “May god strike me down if I’m lyin’.”

“Now there’s no need for language like that,” the reverend said.

“Look,” Mike continued, “even if it _is_ true, what you’ve been sayin’, they ain’t the only guys behavin’ that way. You oughta see some of the mining camps I’ve been to.”

“That’s why we gotta send out a message that it needs to stop!” someone shouted.

“And just exactly what harm is it doin’ to anybody? What harm is it doin’ to _you_?”

“It offends my sensitive ears,” Ebenezer said, leaning towards him with half-closed eyelids. His two pals snickered.

Mike glared back at him. “You know what I think? I think you’re makin’ shit up and just wanna be mean for the fun of it.”

Ebenezer stood up suddenly, balling his hands into fists, his two pals on either side of him doing the same. Mike stood too, and “Sweetwater” Sam bustled over to them. “Now, my good fella,” he said to Mike, “I think you’re stirrin’ up tempers here that ought not to be disturbed. I think it might be a good idea for you to vamoose.” He held out a bottle to him. “Take this with ya. My compliments.”

Mike looked around the room, which had fallen quiet, and saw a sea of faces set against him. His cheeks went pink. He believed in his principles, but did not consider himself to possess the bravery of a hero who would stand up to defend them against such a tide. Surely to try to do so was folly. With his bravado evaporating, his shoulders fell and he took the bottle. “I was just sayin’,” he muttered, then shot one last venomous glance at Ebenezer before leaving the saloon.

Sam, who had been gaining the confidence to speak just as Mike was losing his, recognizing that most of the people in the room were on his side, broke the silence. “Did any of you see the rodeo performance those two gave? They were all over each other. It was disgusting.” There were some nods and mutters of agreement.

“Now be fair, Sam,” a young man in the small crowd said. “A lot of townsfolk were mighty impressed by that. They’re real talented, don’t you agree? I seen ’em myself on the ranch, practicin’ like a coupla professionals.”

“Besides,” another voice chimed in, “Yuuri’s been boning Clarissa upstairs for months like there’s no tomorrow – he must’ve had a heckuva big bill from her to give her all that prize money like that.” There was a chorus of guffaws.

“What’s this?” Hank said. He had been sitting back in his chair, silently taking in the proceedings until now, the brim of his Stetson pulled down low as he measured the worth of each comment. “You’re telling me my son’s been seeing a whore here on a regular basis?”

“Now _I_ can attest to the truth of that,” “Sweetwater” Sam said from behind the bar. “In fact the pair of ’em are real cozy, if you get my meanin’.”

“I send him a stipend each month, and this is what he spends it on,” Hank muttered darkly. “He’s been making a laughing stock of me.”

“So if he’s seein’ Clarissa, how do you reckon he’s seein’ Victor too?” somebody mused aloud.

There was a tic in Hank’s cheek as he clenched his jaw shut. Then he said, “This person you’re all describing to me, I don’t recognize him as my son. I never would have believed it of him. It’s like he’s gone wild or something.” Some laughs arose in response.

“And you guys who are still defendin’ him,” Ebenezer added, “do you wanna see justice done on a pair o’ sinners or not?” He was met with a hush.

“I told you, I don’t recognize this person as my son,” Hank said. “And I’ve still been given no proof that he’s…done these things with Victor.” He made a face as if the thought itself was distasteful. “Sounds to me like you guys are full of a lot of hot air. And if I discover that you’ve been dragging my family name through the mud for some petty, vindictive reason – ”

“You don’t believe me?” Sam Stevens interrupted, standing up and meeting Hank’s eyes, then looking around the room. “Think you ain’t got enough proof yet, after everything that’s been said? Then I’ll give it to you in spades. Last night I heard one of ’em suggest they should go back to the same place tonight if the weather’s fine again. You wanna go say howdy?”

After another moment of silence, a murmur arose. Ebenezer, who was grinning like all his Christmases had come at once, said, “How about this. I’ll sit in the bunkhouse tonight and keep an eye on things. If they decide to go, I can meet you all someplace quiet where we ain’t likely to be noticed, like the corral at the Rafter T. Be there at…let’s say ten p.m. If I don’t turn up within the half hour, you can assume they decided to stick around the ranch instead.”

Hank gazed at him with his arms folded across the gray lapels of his suit. “You’d better not be wasting my time, fella.” He paused and looked around at the other men. “However, if what you say is true, then do what you want with this Victor; no doubt he deserves everything he gets. But leave my son to me.”           

***

“Hey, Victor. Yuuri.” Chris had come over to join them; both were lounging in their bunks. “A bunch of us is gonna go out to the Wagon Wheel. You wanna come?” When neither of them responded immediately, he added, “Saturday night. Zach’s gonna be there, along with some other guys from the Rafter T. Let’s go have a good time. What d’ya say?”

“Thanks, but I’ve got a few things to do here,” Yuuri mumbled. He had a piece of whittling on his lap, which he was looking at through his glasses.

“Victor?” Chris turned to him.

“Well, I went into town last weekend. I should probably save my money. Besides, I keep asking Lennie to get some vodka in stock, but he never does.” He grinned and winked at Chris, who mouthed a silent _Oh_ after glancing at Yuuri, who was smiling to himself.

“OK. I’ll see ya later,” Chris said, putting his coat on.

“Probably not,” Victor muttered, a corner of his mouth twitching up.

When they left the bunkhouse to fetch their overnight kit and horses, neither Yuuri nor Victor noticed the figure stealing away from a dark corner of the room shortly afterward and darting into the night.

***

Cold…still so cold in here so much of the time. It didn’t matter how hot the day had been; the temperature always plummeted when the sun went down. But Yuuri avoided putting his long johns on when he could, when he and Victor had the opportunity to sleep together; much better to put up with the odd shiver if it meant they could lie skin to skin. He snuggled further down into the bedroll, drowsing, breathing in Victor’s scent and sharing his warmth. Victor made a snuffling noise in his sleep and shifted slightly. Yuuri draped an arm across his chest, and his consciousness wandered back to the realm of dreams.

He woke back up to a sudden yellow glare. Had they left their lantern lit? He didn’t think so.

“Well looky here,” came a mocking voice. Yuuri gasped and scrambled to a sitting position, adrenaline suddenly shooting through his veins. Victor did the same next to him. They held the top of the bedroll against their chests.

“Ebenezer?” Yuuri said, blinking, his throat hoarse from sleep. “S-Sam?”

“I _told_ you,” Sam said to Ebenezer. Both of them were standing next to the waterfall, Ebenezer holding a lantern. “They wouldn’t believe me.”

“Well _I_ did. Hey, you two, you’ve got five minutes to get yourselves decent. Then come out with your hands up. You got that?” He looked around. “Nice place you’ve got here. Handy, too, that there’s only one way in or out. Don’t try nothin’, ’cause there’s more people outside. You’ll only get yourselves hurt.” With that he put the lantern down and left the grotto, followed by Sam.

Yuuri and Victor pulled themselves out of the bedroll and quickly started to don their clothes. Yuuri could feel himself shaking, and he was fighting to breathe. He’d never had a panic attack that wasn’t linked to a stagecoach in some way before, but he felt it looming on the horizon now. _This can’t be happening. It can’t it can’t it can’t…_

“Yuuri,” Victor said, trying to steady his hands enough to do up his shirt buttons, “listen to me. _Listen._ Just do as they say for now. Don’t give them a hard time. They might put us in jail for a little while, like they did to the pair they arrested last year.” His breaths were coming quickly as well, but he was obviously fighting to keep a level head, and Yuuri was determined to follow his example. “Or something similar, I don’t know. But we’ll get through it. One step at a time.”

Yuuri swallowed as he pulled his pants and boots on. His stomach was heaving. “Have…have you got a gun?”

“Yeah, in my saddlebag. But if there are other men outside like they said, I don’t think it would be a good idea to risk anything with it.” He looked over at Yuuri, his eyes wide and bright, and Yuuri could see the fear in them that was belied by his calm words. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt. Least of all you.”

After he’d shoved his second boot on, Yuuri dashed over to Victor, who was still barefoot, and wrapped his arms around him. Victor did the same, and they clung tightly to each other, each exhaling loudly. Yuuri felt dampness between his cheek and Victor’s neck and it occurred to him that he must be crying, but it was barely on the edge of his awareness. His thoughts were scattered, and he couldn’t bring himself to move. “Victor,” he choked out.

“Shhh, baby. We’ll get through this.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Time’s up – get out here with your hands up _now_!” shouted a voice from the other side of the waterfall. They looked at each other for a long moment, then Victor pulled his boots on, and they strode outside, Yuuri’s heart hammering fit to burst, his throat constricted as if his bandanna had been tied so tightly that it was strangling him. Instinctively he grasped Victor’s hand in his own and squeezed it, and felt a squeeze in return; but then he dropped it just as quickly, unwilling to further provoke whoever was waiting for them.

“I said hands up!”

Yuuri and Victor complied. As his eyes adjusted to the dark night peppered with a handful of lanterns, Yuuri recognized the speaker as one of Larkspur’s deputies. Before he could say anything himself, however, he felt hands grabbing him, pulling him back away from the creek. Victor was similarly manhandled.

“I’ll go back in there with you while you pick up your stuff,” the deputy said to Yuuri, levelling a gun at him. “The rest of you guys, behave yourselves out here.”

Yuuri went back into the grotto with the deputy and packed the few items he and Victor had left lying around, then hoisted up his saddlebags and bedroll. “Tell me what’s going on. Please,” he said in the steadiest voice he could manage.

“Just get back outside. This ain’t the kind of thing I became a deputy for, but I figured I’d better tag along just to stop people shootin’ each other.”

“Then let me and Victor go. We’ll…we’ll disappear – we won’t come back.”

“Sorry, no can do. Looks to me like you both have got some explainin’ to do. Come on.” He waved his gun, and Yuuri passed the waterfall.

“Put your stuff on your horse,” someone else told him; he didn’t recognize everyone who was there, especially in the dark, but figured it must be a dozen men or so.

“Where are we going?” Yuuri asked as packed his things on Biscuit, then watched Victor being escorted into the grotto by the deputy, no doubt to collect his gear as well.

Ebenezer stepped in front of him. “Your dad wants to see you. I gather he ain’t too pleased about this situation.”

“What about Victor?”

“The deputy’s gonna be takin’ him to the town jail. Maybe you’ll end up there with him, nice and cozy.”

Yuuri swallowed. “All that time we’ve been in the bunkhouse together…I thought we were OK. You can’t blame me for what I did at the Wagon Wheel all that time ago – it was nothing personal, but you insulted me. What else would you have expected me to do?”

“You think this is all about that? I got a conscience as a fine upstandin’ Christian gentleman, an’ I’m just doin’ my duty, is all.” He smirked and someone tittered behind him.

Yuuri’s eyes darted around and he took a step toward a parting in the nearby bushes, but instantly felt a hand on either of his arms, restraining him.

“Don’t even think about it.” He felt a gun poke into his back, and his breath hissed out.

“We might as well take him now – what are we waitin’ for?”

“OK, then.” To Yuuri the voice said, “Git on your horse, pard, nice an’ slow. Each of us has got a gun, and there’ll be others ridin’ with us besides, so if you try anythin’, it’ll be the last thing you do. We’re takin’ ya back to your ranch.”

Yuuri mounted Biscuit, stealing one last look at the waterfall; Victor and the deputy had not yet emerged. He sucked in a deep breath and allowed himself to be escorted away.

True to their word, there was a rider close on either side of him as they made their way slowly through the night, each of them carrying a lantern; one of them was Ebenezer. Yuuri couldn’t see very well behind, but he thought there were perhaps six men in total. He wondered again, briefly, at the poison that must have rankled inside Ebenezer for so long after Yuuri had gotten him thrown out of the Wagon Wheel, and remembered how Victor had been concerned afterward that he and his flunkies might be lurking outside, waiting to take revenge. Well if _this_ was his revenge, it had been a long time in coming, and it must have taken root inside the man like a virulent weed until it had grown out of all proportion to the original slight. It sent a cold shiver down Yuuri’s spine. And they’d been quietly sharing a bunkhouse all these months.

He wondered if there was a way of distracting these men long enough for him to make an escape; the fact that it was dark and there were bushes and trees around was on his side. It would be taking a big risk, though; and even if he succeeded, how much worse would it then make the situation for Victor? What would they do to him while he was in jail, with the knowledge that Yuuri had gotten away? Maybe it would be better after all for them both to face the music, which might include a jail term, and then perhaps they’d be allowed to leave the town. There was no reason to believe, so far, that anyone intended anything different. He hated to think about it, but the fact of the matter was that if this group of men had been feeling vindictive, they could’ve shot them both on sight if they’d wanted to. Instead they’d brought a deputy along with them, Yuuri and Victor had been allowed to fetch their things, and each of them was being led someplace sensible – though Yuuri wondered why they’d decided to take him to his father first. Since he’d detached himself from any hope or desire to inherit the ranch, however, there wasn’t really any leverage Hank had with him that he could see. Maybe it was just an ordeal – hopefully a brief one – he’d have to get through before he could join Victor in jail.

By the time they’d entered the Rafter T grounds and ridden up to the house, Yuuri had managed to quell the worst of his fears. Maybe, in a way, his and Victor’s futures had been decided for them. It would be painful and, truth be told, humiliating to be run out of town; but he had no doubt that with their skills, they could travel elsewhere and find work on another ranch. Or maybe even get a place of their own, like Victor had suggested. All was certainly not lost.

He was told to dismount near the porch, and the door was opened by Eva as he was led inside by Ebenezer and the other cowboy who had escorted him. They left Yuuri standing there in the living room with a brief word about waiting outside, then departed as quickly as they had come. Hank stood quietly in the middle of the room, wearing his brown suit and Stetson; Eva, with a blotchy face and bloodshot eyes, glanced once at Yuuri, then held a tissue to her nose and silently swept out into the hall. Yuuri soon heard sobs emanating from the kitchen. He swallowed, squared his shoulders, stood up straight, and gazed levelly at his father.

Hank crossed his arms and stared back for a long moment, then said, “Please tell me this has all been a crazy misunderstanding. Tell me you ain’t done all these things I’ve been hearing about.”

“What have you been hearing?”

“You honestly want to make me repeat it?” Hank shot out at him, red suddenly flaring in his cheeks. “You know damn well! I didn’t want to believe it – but clearly all the proof I need is now standing in front of me, after you’ve been caught! The shame you’ve brought down on this family…people everywhere are laughing at us.” His voice choked off and he shook his head. “And you had the _audacity_ to bring that man here for a _meal_ with us.”

Yuuri didn’t have time to mentally flick through his choice of responses. Feeling no shame himself for anything he’d done, he decided to take the direct route and said quietly but firmly, “I love him.”

Hank’s eyes shot open wide. “Two men do _not_ love each other, you hear me? Not that way, they don’t! Christ a’mighty, how in Sam Hill did your poor mother and me end up raising a goddamn sod…sod…fuck! I can’t even bring myself to say it.” He swallowed, struggling to get the words out, as Yuuri continued to stand and stare. “The least you need is a good few sessions with Reverend Howell to put you right.” He paused again. “And on top of that, what else do I find out, but that you’ve been seeing some whore at Sweetwater Sam’s – _that’s_ all around town, too.”

“She was giving me dancing lessons,” Yuuri said straight away, suddenly filled with concern that Clarissa might be unwittingly pulled into the mire.

“How do you think I…wait a minute, what?”

“I was paying her to teach me ballet.”

“What the hell’s that when it’s at home?”

“Look – I’m telling you the truth. I was learning it because it helped me with the trick riding.”

Hank eyed him. Yuuri tried to maintain an indifferent expression, though inside he was trembling, and wondering where Victor was and what was happening to him.

“You know,” his father said more quietly, “that’s so crazy, I’m inclined to believe you, because Christ knows why you’d make something like that up. In fact, I just don’t understand you anymore at all. You must be pretty good at hiding all this shit you’ve been getting up to in secret. How many other guys were there before Victor, tell me that?”

“What?” Yuuri said, taken aback.

“I said – ”

“I know what you said,” Yuuri echoed, unable to stop the heat from entering his voice. “Not that it’s any of your business, but there weren’t any. It’s just been Victor.”

“Well that’s handy, anyway. I might be able to salvage things some if I get word around that he seduced you into evil ways, and you’re sorry and say you’ve learned your lesson.”

Yuuri’s mouth dropped open. “Don’t you _dare_ do that to him. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I went over there.” He leaned forward, suddenly finding a dark sense of satisfaction in pouring salt into the wound, and added in a low voice, “ _I_ kissed _him_. And I _loved_ it.”

Hank stared, his jaw working but no sound coming out. He flexed his fingers, curling them into loose fists. “OK. I get it. You think you’re some kinda rebel or something. But I’ll tell you this. God knows things have been hard for your mother and me all these years with you being Japanese, and then those…funny turns you had. And we’ve never said anything because we’re your folks. But all this on top of it…Jesus Christ, I’ve put up with more than enough. As of now, I am disowning you. You are no longer heir to this ranch, you understand?”

“Fine,” Yuuri said calmly, and Hank looked surprised, as if he’d expected him to argue back. “Just tell those men waiting outside to let me go, then. I’ll leave with Victor, and you won’t ever have to see either of us again.”

There was a sobbing cry from the doorway, and both of them turned to see Eva standing against the frame, her hands covering her mouth. “Mom – ” Yuuri began.

“Goddamn it, you’ve caused enough trouble – don’t go bothering her now,” Hank said. “And no, I am not going to ask the men outside to let you go. You both need to get off your high horses and learn a lesson, that much is clear. Maybe they’ll decide to make an example of you. You’re to stay here until further notice – and if you decide you’re gonna try to get away, those men are waiting for me to call them in case I need their help.”

“Hank…you wouldn’t – ” Eva ventured in a thin voice.

“I won’t have to if he decides to cooperate.”

“All right,” Yuuri said. “Where am I supposed to go?”

“Your room,” Hank answered. “Come on.”

Yuuri made his way there, his father trailing behind him. It felt in an odd way like he was a young boy again, being sent here because he’d been up to no good, which actually had been a rarity. At least if he was going to be made to spend time here in the house, this was where he’d choose to spend it. The door was open as he approached, and he stepped inside. The interior was dark – very dark. He turned to ask Hank about a light, when he saw the door shutting behind him with a click. When he reached a hand out and twisted the handle, the door wouldn’t budge.

“Hey,” he called. “What’s going on?” There was no answer. He pulled on the handle again, but that wasn’t the problem – the clicking sound he’d heard indicated that a lock had been fitted on the outside of the door where none had existed before; the door had only ever locked from the inside. “Hey!” he called again, his heart giving a leap. But he knew he’d heard the sound of footsteps fading away down the hall. He’d been left here, locked in his dark room.

“Jesus,” he muttered, leaning his forehead against the door, feeling his heart flutter against his ribcage. There hadn’t been much love lost between himself and Hank over the years, especially as Yuuri had gotten older and had more of a mind of his own, but he wouldn’t have thought his father would ever go to this kind of extreme. He suddenly regretted deliberately provoking him in the heat of the moment. Maybe if he’d been calmer, played whatever game he’d been expected to play a little better, he might not be standing here now, trapped. Damn. What now?

“The window,” he said aloud, moving with practiced ease across the space. He thought the curtains must be closed, since no light from the stars or moon was making its way in, but he soon discovered they were hanging open. He quickly located the catch and turned the handle, pushing outward, but met an unexpected resistance. That was strange – this window had always opened outward.

“What the hell,” he murmured. His heart was beating faster as he groped his way to his desk and pulled open a drawer, fumbling inside it. Good – the matches were still there at least. He lit one, and by its light went over to the candle on the bedside table, which was practically a stump but would do for now. Lighting it and blowing the match out, he carried it over to the window. A board had been mounted to cover it on the outside.

“What the _hell_ ,” he repeated more loudly, putting the candle down on his bedside table and pushing against the window with both palms, his arms straight, leaning his weight into it. The board felt securely fixed in place. Not for the first time that night, he felt he’d wandered into a nightmare. Some noise would wake him up any moment and he’d find he was lying next to Victor in their bedroll in the grotto. His kisses would chase away the lingering specters, and Yuuri would be filled with the warmth of their love. Only, that might not happen again – ever.

A small, choked cry escaped from his throat. Taking a deep breath, he chose to assail the door first. He threw himself against it with all his might, several times over. Aimed kicks at it. Rammed it with his shoulders until the pain made him stop. He stood, panting, and tried one last kick with all his weight behind it, to no avail. When he got his breath back, he climbed onto his desk, lay down on his back, curled his legs up, then sprang them forward against the window. The glass shattered. He scrambled up, grabbed the old shirt that was still on the back of his chair, wrapped it around his hand, and pulled the shards out of the frame, punching at a few to loosen them so that he could prise them out. Sweeping the glass off the surface of the desk with a swipe of his arm, so that it landed in a pile on the floor with a loud tinkling noise, he again climbed up, lay on his back, and sprang his legs forward against the board. Again. And again. It seemed to be made of one whole piece of hard wood, and had been nailed or secured in some way that had made it impervious to such attacks. Yuuri knelt next to it and rammed it with his shoulders, but thought he was getting less power this way instead of more; and when he started seeing stars in front of his eyes, he knew he had to stop. His mind racing, he seized the heavy wooden chair next to him, raised it, and swung it with every last ounce of strength he had, letting out a grunt as he heaved it around. It crashed against the board with an explosive sound. Two of the chair legs cracked and splintered. The board did not move.

Yuuri collapsed onto the surface of his desk, gasping for breath, his muscles aching from his frenzied exertions. Then his gasps turned into sobs, and he bent over to lean against his knees, his hands covering his face, his body shaking.

_You can’t fall to pieces now. Victor needs you._

_Victor._

Yuuri summoned a vision of him on a summer’s day, in the corral with Luchik. The sunlight playing on his hair, making it glow. His cheeks pink, his blue eyes sparkling, his warm smile reaching into Yuuri’s heart.

Blinking the tears back and using his old shirt to wipe his face, he slowly uncurled himself and slid off the desk, then went to sit down on his bed. The heel of his foot bumped against something hard, and he bent over to look. It was a chamber pot, shoved under his bed and sticking out slightly. He hardly ever bothered with them, preferring to visit the outhouse when he could. They really meant for him to be a prisoner in here. His own parents. It was still hard to believe. A tremor raced down his back, and he hugged his arms against himself.

Then he remembered the last time he’d been in here – who he was with, and what they’d been doing. A grin stole across his face, unbidden, and he felt a peaceful warmth unfurl in his abdomen. It was almost as if Victor was sitting next to him here, now, gathering him in his arms and reassuring him that everything would be OK. “ _Ya lyublyu tyebya_ , Vitya,” he whispered. “We’ll make it through this somehow.”

He blew the candle out to preserve the little that was left, and lay back, imagining himself in the grotto as if he had never been interrupted. His worries melted away with the touch of Victor’s skin, his caresses, his whispers; and Victor’s face was the last thing Yuuri saw in his mind, fading away like the Cheshire Cat, as sleep took him and he knew no more. 


	45. Chapter 45

Victor had remained silent during most of the journey to the town jail. Young Sam from the Circle C rode to his left, and the deputy, who’d said his name was Frank Carson, was on his right. Several men rode behind them. They all carried lanterns apart from Victor.

It felt like he ought to say something, but every time he came up with an idea, he imagined what the response might be, and reckoned it was better to just stay quiet. There was no point in asking them why they were doing this; he could think of a few reasons himself. And he knew where they were going; Frank had told him he was being escorted to jail. What Frank didn’t know was what would happen next, though his mood was more one of annoyance at the time all this was taking up rather than of malice or vindictiveness, and that was some comfort at least. Furthermore, no one had tried to hurt him – or Yuuri, as far as he was aware.

“Is Yuuri being taken to the jail too?” he finally asked, looking over at Frank, his voice seemingly loud after the long silence.

“He’s being taken to his dad’s ranch,” was the curt reply.

“Oh? Why?”

Frank returned his gaze with a raised eyebrow. “Why? Because his dad wants to see him.”

“Is he going to stay there?”

“How in tarnation should I know? And since when did prisoners do all the questioning? I think you better shut your trap back up, mister.”

Victor stayed quiet for a while longer, then glanced at Sam. Oh, what the hell – he might as well try to find some things out if he could, if Frank didn’t shut him up again. “You’ve been at the Circle C for a few months now, haven’t you?” Sam just looked at him. “How have you been finding it?”

“How have I been finding it?” He chuckled mirthlessly. “You’re asking me that, now?” He paused, while Victor simply gazed back. “Honestly, I can’t stand it. I’m gonna go do something else soon as I can. I ain’t cut out to be a cowboy.”

“It’s hard work.”

“You got that right.”

“What else would you like to do?”

“Well…if I could do anything I wanted, I thought maybe I’d go to the seminary and train to be a preacher.”

Oh. Well, that was interesting. And it fit. “Then that’s what you should do.”

“I wish it was that easy. My dad wanted me to be a cowboy.”

“Your dad isn’t living your life.”

“I think he wishes he could.”

“Mine wanted me to be a doctor, just like him. He didn’t like the idea of me working on a ranch at all. But here I am, years later, doing what I love. And he died of cholera.”

Sam’s green eyes widened and his lips parted as he stared. Frank glanced over as well.

“Did you go to the rodeo last week?” Victor continued. Sam nodded. “That’s what I love, too, and so does Yuuri. I hope we gave an entertaining performance.”

“I…uh…”

“We worked on it together for months, between doing all the other jobs we do on the ranch. I think everyone should do something they love like that, if they can. We were lucky to get the chance.” He paused. “I’m not sure what we’ll be doing now.”

“You’re goin’ to jail, for a start,” Frank muttered.

“And why – because I was showing my love to someone?”

“The law’s the law,” Frank said.

“The devil speaks with a forked tongue,” Sam added, a glint leaping into his eyes.

Victor gave him a soft smile. “Do I look like the devil to you?”

“It means your speech is deceptive.”

He wasn’t sure how far he wanted to pursue this topic with the kid, or how far Frank would let him. It was unlikely to achieve anything apart from giving him something to occupy himself with so that he didn’t have the constant worries in his head about what was happening to Yuuri or what the future held for them both. Well, maybe that was enough.

“Everything I’ve said has been the truth. Now the Bible says God is love, doesn’t it? Well, love can be expressed in a lot of different ways. That’s what I believe.”

“It also says it is an abomination to lie with a man as with a woman,” Sam returned hotly.

“Then you’ve got a contradiction, if the two men are in love.”

“Jesus, Joseph and Mary, it’s a good thing the reverend ain’t here to hear you talkin’ like that,” Frank said. “You really oughta just keep your trap shut.”

“You’re completely shameless, aren’t you?” Sam huffed, eyeing Victor. “Trying to explain scripture to _me_. Walking around in the nude like it’s as ordinary as tying your bootlaces.”

“I don’t do that on the ranch,” Victor said, looking back at him with curiosity. Frank was doing the same.

“Maybe not, but you do it in other places.”

“Like…the grotto?” When Sam didn’t answer, he said, “Is that how you found us? When we came outside to stand under the waterfall?” Sam looked down, his cheeks blotched with red. “Ah.”

“You guys have got a funny way of living,” Frank said, shaking his head.

Victor’s mouth quirked up in a little grin. “You should try it sometime.”

“Thanks, I’ll pass.”

They had been approaching the outskirts of town and soon stopped outside the jail, a small building completely enclosed by a porch, with small windows giving off a faint yellow glow. Dark copses of trees fringed the edges of the area. The men tied their horses to the hitching rail, telling Victor to dismount and do the same with Luchik.

“What’s goin’ on, Frank?” someone called from the group. “You ain’t just gonna take him in there an’ leave him, are ya?”

“Why, what else you expect me to do? That’s why we come out here in the first place.”

“I thought we was gonna make an example of the two of ’em.”

“You let the proper authorities decide what’s gonna happen, accordin’ to the law. If the judge wants to make an example of ’em, then he will.”

“That ain’t what we decided at Sweetwater Sam’s yesterday.” There were angry mumbles of agreement.

“I weren’t there, so I can’t say. But my guess is you didn’t have a lawman there, did ya? You was just blowin’ a lot of hot air. You guys done your job tonight – now let me do mine, an’ vamoose back home.”

The men continued to complain as they unhitched their horses. “You too, Sam,” Frank said. “There ain’t nothin’ more you can do here.”

Sam looked at him for a moment, then at Victor, then reluctantly unhitched his horse and joined the others riding back into the night.

“Thank you,” Victor said to Frank. And he truly meant it. He hadn’t realized what an ugly mood the other men had been in until they’d arrived here. So they’d gotten together at Sweetwater Sam’s yesterday and decided to make an example of them both? He didn’t like the sound of that. Suddenly, being shut inside the jail seemed like a safe option, for the moment at least.

“Don’t start thinkin’ I’m on your side,” Frank said as he opened the door to the building. “I ain’t on nobody’s side. I’m just tryin’ to make sure everybody’s behavin’ themselves. An’ I had to leave my card game at the Wagon Wheel tonight for all this,” he added.

“Howdy, Frank,” the sheriff said. A stout middle-aged man with dark thinning hair and brown eyes, a gold star pinned to his vest, was sitting with his feet propped up against a desk looking at a stack of posters, and was in no hurry to get up when Frank walked in with Victor. “So you rounded ’em both up, didja?”

“Yeah, the other one’s been taken to the Rafter T like you said.” Frank pulled a large keyring from the wall and unlocked the door to one of the three cells in the room.

“Well, let’s hope it all blows over soon.” He held the stack of posters up. “Thieves an’ murderers out there on the loose, and I’m havin’ to deal with this kinda thing instead. People get their backs up too easy in this town.”

Frank indicated that Victor should enter the cell, which he did, and he shut and locked the door behind him, turning to the sheriff after replacing the keyring. “Well, I wouldn’t mind gettin’ back to my card game, if it’s all the same to you, Hal. I done what you asked.”

“Now wait a minute,” the sheriff said, getting up. “I ain’t supposed to be on duty either, certainly not tonight. I just been sittin’ here waitin’ for you to get back. Red’s supposed to come an’ join you later. Maybe only one of you’ll need to stay here overnight, or maybe both of you if there’s trouble for any reason – I’ll let you work that out between yourselves.” He put his hat and gunbelt on as Frank stared at him in shock.

“ _I’m_ supposed to stay here overnight?”

“Unless you can convince Red to do it when he comes. I shouldn’t have to remind you it’s your job, Frank. See ya later.” With that, he exited the jail.

Frank stood quietly for a moment. “Shit,” he spat, hanging his gunbelt on the wall along with his hat. “Why’d you guys pick tonight to go an’ get yourselves in trouble?” he grumbled at Victor as he took the seat the sheriff had vacated behind the desk and pulled a small bottle and shot glass out of a drawer.

“If it’s inconvenient for you, you can let me go,” Victor suggested.

“Like hell.”

Victor sighed and sat down on the bench in the cell, lacing his fingers together and looking at the floor. Maybe he was destined to stay here for a while. Maybe Yuuri would be brought in sometime soon to join him. Hopefully they’d at least get a fair trial. He didn’t much care what happened in this town, as long as the two of them were allowed to leave. After that, they would have to talk about what they wanted to do. But it looked like the situation was being handled well by the lawmen here, at least, even if there were a few disgruntled men like Ebenezer who would be disappointed not to get any sport out of it.

 _Yuuri…please be OK._ That was the overriding concern that made it difficult to think of anything else, especially now that there was no one to talk to – apart from this deputy, who seemed more intent on drinking and complaining about being stuck here for the night. Well, maybe he should try it in a cell and see how he liked it. What was Yuuri’s father doing with him? Did he want an explanation? Did he simply have a desire to rail at his son for what he’d done? Or was it possible that he was trying to protect Yuuri? Victor wasn’t sure the man had anything other than a heart of stone inside his chest, but he was willing to concede he was wrong about that; or, as seemed more likely, he was trying to mitigate the damage done to his own reputation. Maybe, in that case, he would actually be happy for Yuuri and Victor to leave town together. That was something worth hoping for.

 _Be strong, baby. I’ll see you soon._ He sat back in the corner of his cell and imagined he was back in the grotto with his love beside him, sharing their heat inside the bedroll. Kissing his soft lips, stroking his hair. Looking into his beautiful brown eyes. Yes, they would do those things again, once this was all over with.

 _Aishiteru, Yuuri._ He sighed and drifted into an uncomfortable doze. 

***

“Look after yourself, and keep going with them horses, kid. Your friend, Bill,” Yuuri read aloud. He brushed his fingers lightly over the wrinkled paper, refolded it carefully, put it back in its envelope, and slipped it into his vest pocket. He had no intention of ever coming back here, once he managed to get away, and didn’t want to leave anything special like this behind.

A lantern cast a glow across his desk; it had been left in his room sometime while he’d been sleeping, along with a tray on which had been placed a bowl of oatmeal, a glass of orange juice, and a spoon. Yuuri had awakened that morning – at least, his pocket watch said it was morning; he wouldn’t have known otherwise – to find it there, courtesy of his mother presumably. He couldn’t bring himself to eat anything, though the drink was welcome, and the lantern. At least they didn’t intend to let him starve. He didn’t know what to expect anymore. It was about six p.m. now, and he’d had no visitors; not even a sound from outside his door to indicate anyone had gone past.

It had become increasingly difficult to while away the minutes and hours, not knowing how long he was expected to stay in here or what was going on in his absence. The uncertainty was the worst part. Unable to find any more refuge in sleep, he’d eventually set about examining his room for anything he’d left there when he went to the Circle C that might be handy to take with him now. The painting would have to stay on the wall, at any rate. He never would know what the cowboys in it were searching for. Maybe they were trying to chase down and lasso the sun itself before it disappeared beyond the mountains.

At the back of the bottom drawer of his desk was a battered old leather bag. He hadn’t taken this out to look at it in years, but he knew what it was. He untied the strings holding it closed and pulled out a small cream-colored silk coin purse embroidered with cherry blossoms, and an ebony hair comb with a gold-painted carving of a crane at the top. They were the only physical reminders he had left of his Japanese parents; apparently his father had left nothing behind at all.

He wished he could remember more about them. It didn’t seem right that he could look at these old keepsakes and not feel a firmer tug at his heartstrings, or some kind of nostalgia, or even a trace of remembrance of his mother using or wearing them. Even her face had faded in his mind until all he could see was dark hair and eyes that would match just about any Japanese woman who ever existed. What he felt was sad – sad about what had happened to the two of them all those years ago; sad he’d never had the chance to get to know them as he’d grown up. Sad that he’d gone down this life path with the Taylors instead and had ended up here, today, like this.

“Would you have been proud of me?” he mused aloud. But he doubted they would have been any more accepting of his relationship with Victor than the Taylors or most others. Family honor was just as important to the Japanese as it was here, if not more so – he knew that much. “Well it doesn’t matter now, anyway.” He placed the items back inside the bag, tied it up, and put it in another vest pocket, then took his glasses off and put those into the case Victor had given him. He ran his fingers along the top of the lid and smiled to himself before tucking it away. Surely he’d be allowed to join him soon, even if it meant the two of them would be sitting in jail together.

He sat back down on his bed and crossed his arms over his chest, wracking his brains for anything to do that would pass the time. If his thoughts idled for too long, they always came back to torture him with the moment he’d awakened in the grotto to find that he and Victor had been discovered; and then he couldn’t help but wonder for the umpteenth time what had been happening to Victor since they’d been separated, and if he was OK. His stomach was in a permanent state of protest, and he knew if he tried to eat even the meager fare that had been left on the tray for him, he wouldn’t be able to hold it down. Maybe he should have another try at the door or the window. His shoulders were no doubt covered in purple from his efforts the night before – he hadn’t bothered to take his shirt off to look – but he still had strength in his legs, and it was just possible he’d managed to weaken one of the barriers enough so that a further assault would succeed. There was no harm in trying, at any rate.

That was when he heard the scratching noise – a faint, regular scritch-scritch, and it was coming from the boarded-up window. Yuuri jumped off of his bed and scrambled over, then stopped and stood, listening intently. There was a little squeak, and then a ping, and then the scritch-scritch came again from a different area of the board – a corner. Could somebody out there be removing it? If so, who, and why? He stared quietly, and waited.

With a final ping, the board was lifted away, and the evening light seemed bright enough to blind Yuuri as he shielded his eyes, at the same time searching frantically for a glimpse of whoever was outside.

“Yuuri, pard, you in there?” came a familiar drawl that could only belong to one person.

“Chris!” Yuuri exclaimed in a low voice, clambering onto the desk as the Texan’s head came into view.

“Fancy us meetin’ like this.” He lifted his hat briefly in greeting and displayed a large screwdriver, which he tucked into a bag with a clank, as if it were clattering around in there with other tools. “It didn’t seem none too friendly, what someone had gone an’ done to your winduh here, so we thought we’d put it right for ya an’ come an’ say hi.”

“Thank god. Who’s ‘we’?”

“You’ll see. C’mon, we better not hang around like this in broad daylight – we’re takin’ enough of a risk right now as it is.” He lifted his arms up, and helped Yuuri climb out of the empty frame and slip down the wall to the ground. “Hey, guys,” he said, raising his voice a little, “let’s skedaddle.”

Phichit suddenly emerged from one corner of the house, and Zach from another. “Yuuri!” Phichit said with a smile; then to Chris, “Coast is clear on my side.”

“Mine too,” Zach said. “I say we make a break for it.”

“Let’s go,” Chris agreed. All three sprinted over to the trees that grew on the edge of the property, with Yuuri following close behind. When they were well into the shelter of the little wood, they stopped in a small clearing, where Jeff was waiting with their horses – including Biscuit, who had been packed with what Yuuri assumed were most, if not all, of his possessions. Luchik was there as well, also laden with baggage.

“Word got around pretty fast about what happened,” Chris said. “I rode straight out here to see these two, an’ we put together a plan.”

“Do you know where Victor is? What’s been happening?” Yuuri asked, struggling to keep his voice calm.

Chris raised a hand to forestall him. “It looks OK so far, Yuuri. From what we’ve been able to find out, they took him to jail in town, an’ he’s there now. The men from both ranches who went along were grumblin’ that it weren’t right, somehow, that the lawmen had taken the situation into their hands, but there don’t seem to me to be nothin’ they kin do about it. I dunno what anybody was plannin’ for you, but it looks to me like it were a good thang we decided to come over here after you.”

“We wanted to help you and Victor,” Phichit said. “We figured you both would want to get away, the sooner the better.”

“That sounds like a good plan to me,” Yuuri said. “Thanks, guys…this means a lot.”

Jeff plucked Yuuri’s Stetson off Biscuit’s saddle horn and gave it to him. “Shame for you to lose it. It suits you.” He smiled.

“We all rode back to the Circle C to get your horses – they’d been brought back and put in their stalls, I’m not sure by who – and pack your things,” Phichit explained. “When we went into the bunkhouse, we just said we’d been sent to do a clearout because the two of you weren’t coming back. No one stopped us.”

“You did all this in the middle of the day?” Yuuri said in amazement.

“Well, night-time would’ve been worse, with the bunkhouse bein’ full of jest about everybody, an’ all of ’em wantin’ to ask questions,” Chris said. “Least in the day, people are comin’ an’ goin’. There were only a handful in there when we come in.” His eyes brightened and he leaned forward. “An’ you know what – those that we saw were right sore about what happened – not about you an’ Victor, but about the two of yuhz gettin’ in trouble for it.”

“It’s the same here at the Rafter T,” Zach added. “The few guys we saw in the bunkhouse were saying someone was making a mountain out of a molehill, and they hoped it was all a big misunderstanding and things would go back to normal soon.”

“I wish that was the case,” Yuuri said, “but I don’t think it’s likely.”

“I’m afraid I agree with ya,” Chris said. “So we’re plannin’ to mosey on over to the jail an’ spring Victor out, if ya care to accompany us. Then yuhz kin…I dunno, find someplace better to live, maybe. Long as ya both send us word an’ let us know how you’re doin’.”

“We will. Thanks. And of course I’m going to the jail with you – just try and stop me.”

Jeff handed him something, and he saw that it was his gunbelt. Yuuri took it gingerly. “I haven’t worn this in a while. I…I’ve never been in a situation where I might have to draw a gun on someone.” He swallowed. “Are you expecting…problems? I’m not going to try to shoot the sheriff or any of the deputies.”

“Of course not,” Phichit said. “None of us would do that. But you don’t know who else might be around, or…or what could happen. Out here, it’s better to be safe than sorry. We’ve all got our guns with us.”

Yuuri buckled the belt around his waist, the pearl-colored handle of his six-shooter protruding at his hip. He pulled it out, checked that it was loaded, and returned it to its holster. “Then let’s do this,” he said firmly, taking Luchik’s lead rope and vaulting onto Biscuit’s saddle. “And on the way there, if one of you could explain to me _how_ , I’d be much obliged.”


	46. Chapter 46

“Mr. Carson. Nice to see you again,” Victor greeted the deputy as he entered the jailhouse. Frank just looked at him, then approached the desk where the sheriff sat oiling a rifle.

“We gonna do somethin’ ’bout this guy soon?” Frank said. “Or do you wanna keep spendin’ hours in here like this?”

“He ain’t no trouble – are ya, Victor?” Victor flashed him a smile and then looked back down. “He’s a bunny rabbit, this one. Compared to what we usually get in here on a Saturday night. Not a bad conversationalist, neither.”

“Then why don’t I leave you both to it – I’ll just go back where I come from.”

“No, you ain’t. You’re gonna take your turn here ’til someone comes to relieve you.”

“And when’s that gonna be, now that Red’s disappeared? I ain’t seen him in a coupla days, an’ he was supposed to be here last night an’ never showed. You gonna deputize someone else?”

“I’m gonna find out where he went first. Now behave, will ya? I’ll see ya later. ’Bye, Victor.” With that, he marched out the door with his hat and his rifle.

“Don’t tell me – I’ve interrupted your rubber of whist. Or don’t you play that in this country?”

“Just what I need – a wise guy keepin’ me company in here.”

“We should know each other well by the time this is over,” Victor said. “You were here for how long last night?”

“That don’t matter much, ’cause you was asleep. That’s the best kind of prisoner.”

After a moment, Victor asked, “Do you know what’s happening with Yuuri?”

“No, I don’t,” Frank snapped. “An’ I don’t much care. Just shut yer trap, will ya? I’m gonna sit here an’ read – ” He lifted a newspaper that was lying on the desk. “ – an’ I don’t expect to be interrupted.”

Victor leaned back on the bench, wedging himself into the corner of the cell, as he’d been doing in varying stages of sleep or wakefulness since he’d been locked inside. He’d decided a while back that Frank was permanently pissed off about having to guard him, especially since the lawmen appeared to be unexpectedly short-staffed, and so would not take kindly to attempts at making conversation – unlike his boss Hal, who had turned out to be surprisingly loquacious once you got him going on a topic that tickled his fancy. It had passed the time. That was going to be more difficult now. He allowed his eyelids to droop half-shut. They had fed him a basic meal of stew and biscuits half an hour ago. It would be a while before it was time to sleep again. He wondered if it would annoy Frank if he did what exercises he could within the confines of the cell. Push-ups and handstands would work.

The thought was put on hold as a loud, panicked shout for help arose from outside the jailhouse. It sounded like a man in desperate circumstances. Victor got to his feet and wrapped his fingers around the bars of the door to his cell, watching as Frank stood and grabbed his gun, darting to the window and looking outside.

“What’s happening? Can you see anything?”

Ignoring him, Frank muttered, “Goddamn it, this is why we need two people in here.” He went to the door and opened it, then looked in either direction and crept outside, holding his gun at the ready. Victor heard the cry for help again, followed by silence. He watched the doorway, feeling his pulse race. Was it friend or foe outside – and where was Frank?

He heard bootsteps on the wooden porch and had enough time to register that they belonged to several people, before Ebenezer stepped into the room, followed by Reverend Howell and others – some of whom he recognized as ranch hands from the Circle C and Rafter T, some of whom he’d never seen. He stepped back from his cell door. “Where’s Frank – what have you done to him?” he managed in as bold a tone as he could muster.

Ebenezer pulled at the edge of his bristly blond mustache and considered him with dark, sharp eyes. “He won’t be givin’ us any trouble,” he said. “Hey, one of yuhz grab the keys an’ find the one that unlocks the cell there.” One of the two men who seemed to perpetually hover in his shadow obeyed and started shifting through the many keys, which clanked loudly in the room.

Victor felt a sweat break out along his forehead, and his mouth went dry. These men weren’t here to set him free. “What are you doing?”

The man with the keys approached and started trying the more likely ones in the lock, one by one. Victor took another step back.

“You’re being called upon to answer for the grievous crimes you’ve committed,” the reverend said as the rattling of the keys and the clanking of brass against iron rang out. “There are people with me tonight from the ranches and from town who are demanding to see justice done.”

“What?” Victor whispered. _Keep a level head on your shoulders,_ he told himself as his heart leaped in fear. He looked at the men in the room. He could hear more of them talking outside. “Is Sam with you?”

“He…decided to leave this to men who had the stomach for it. I must admit, it’s a grim task.”

Victor placed a sweaty palm on the wall next to him and tried to slow his breathing. Jesus, what were they going to do to him? Had they already done it to Yuuri? Never in his life had he been so close to panicking as in that moment. _Stop – bide your time._ His thoughts were coming to him in Russian. _If you get a chance to try to escape, it won’t be here, now._

The correct key was found, the cell door wrenched open, and Ebenezer’s henchmen were upon him before he could resist. Each grabbed an arm and pulled Victor out of the cell and then out of the jailhouse door, where he stood blinking in the evening sunlight on the porch. Braying cheers went up from a group of maybe a dozen men standing outside, in addition to the six or so who had been in the jail. They now trailed out behind him. Off to the side, he saw Frank the deputy sprawled across the floor of the porch – unconscious or dead, it was impossible to tell.

“One of the sinners is now in our custody,” the reverend called out in a clear voice that carried far across the area. “Let him stand before you.”

“You know what to do, boys,” Ebenezer said, and Victor was escorted to a horse without a saddle and told to mount, which he did. There were more cheers from the crowd, as well as catcalls and sexual jibes and insults. Victor tried to ignore it all, but he knew he was in deep trouble. And thinking of Yuuri, which he couldn’t help but do, was making it worse. He didn’t want to imagine what he might already have been through – or what was yet in store for him. Or, for that matter, how he would react upon discovering what had been done to Victor. Whatever it was, he’d been told it was going to be grim. He shivered and looked around, wondering if it would be better to try to escape now, however slim his chances.

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere apart from where we take you,” someone said, grabbing the reins of his horse and leading it onward. The other men either mounted their horses or led them as well. The distance they covered was not great; as soon as they stood under the vanguard of trees that grew on the edge of a small nearby wood, they came to a halt. Victor was told to get off of his horse, and his arms were again seized from either side.

“Friends and fellow Christians,” the reverend intoned from atop his own obsidian-colored mount, “this man is here to receive justice for a litany of wicked deeds. Do your duty and judge him accordingly.”

Victor decided to try to speak up. It was either this, or surrender to an avalanche of fear and panic. “If this is a trial,” he called out, hoping to make a display of bravado, however little of it he felt, “where are the judge and jury?”

“Right here in front of you,” came an anonymous response from someone in the crowd.

Ebenezer walked up to him and stood close. “Not the showman anymore, are you?” He gave Victor’s cheek a vicious slap.

“Honestly, Ben,” someone nearby said. “Just move back and let us handle this; we’re not all gonna take turns havin’ a pop at him.”

Victor watched him melt back into the crowd, an angry hangdog look on the chastized man’s face. _Please, god, let there be some way out of this. Let me find Yuuri, and we’ll leave here and never come back._ His cheek smarted and burned.

“Everyone here knows about the crimes of which you are accused,” Reverend Howell said to Victor, again loudly enough so that everyone present could easily hear. “I am not going to offend their ears by repeating the sordid details. But being a man of mercy as I am, I will give you the opportunity to speak. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Victor caught his breath and tried to appear composed, though his heart was hammering at his chest. “This isn’t a fair trial – it isn’t any kind of trial at all. You talk about justice, but look what you did to the deputy over there – is he still alive?”

Amid murmurs, the reverend answered, “Well if that’s all – ”

“Just one more thing.” Victor’s voice finally faltered. It was the last true, pure thing he had left in him to say, and he would say it if indeed it was the last thing he ever said at all. “I…didn’t know it was a crime to love someone.”

More murmurs from the crowd. The reverend shot him a look of irritation and held a hand in the air in a gesture for silence. “Gentlemen, I believe we’ve heard enough. Is the prisoner guilty or not guilty of the crimes of fornication and sodomy? Hands up for guilty!”

When every hand in the crowd shot up, excited cries began to ring out. There were whistles and shouts.

“Teach him a lesson!”

“Lynch him!”

Victor gasped. “Please…” he said to the reverend, who was sitting on his horse within easy earshot. “I…I’m begging you. Just let me go, and I promise I’ll leave and never come back. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Yuuri will come with me. He…he’s still alive…isn’t he?” His voice choked off.

“He will have his turn to answer for what he’s done, yes.”

There was a restless sea of movement in the crowd now. Horses stomped and neighed nervously, sensing the undercurrent. More calls came from the crowd.

“What are ya waitin’ for, Reverend? Hurry up an’ lynch him!”

“Goddamn it, let’s get this over with!”

“Bring his boyfriend here and do him next, after he sees what we done to this one!”

“No!” Victor shouted, the blood surging in his veins. He struggled against the hold on his arms, but it was firm. This was a new horror he hadn’t anticipated. He would not, _could_ not let that happen – but what could he do? There was a cold breeze against his face, chilling the moisture that was on his cheeks. Oh. He was crying. “Don’t hurt Yuuri,” he said to the reverend in the same pleading tone. “It…it was all my fault, I take full responsibility – just leave him alone!”

But no one seemed to be listening. “Git back up on that horse,” someone told him, and he was shoved until he lifted his leg and obeyed. His captors mounted their horses as well and grabbed his hands, tying them behind his back, then stood to either side of him. When he looked around at the faces in the crowd – some angry, some eager, some rabid with a lust for violence and the anticipation that it would soon be satisfied – he also saw enough guns pointed at him to know that any attempt at escape would be doomed to failure. A shudder ran down his body. He tried desperately to think of something to say that would help, but nothing had so far. They seemed to be bent on one task, and were determined to carry it out.

Someone he didn’t recognize was carrying a thick coil of rope. He slung it over a branch. A noose dangled from one end, and he held the other end tightly in his hand. Victor’s horse was led to stand under the branch, and he felt the noose being slipped over his head, then tightened. He knew well enough what they were planning to do. Someone would make a noise to startle the horse he was sitting on – maybe a gunshot at close range; and when it bolted…

His thoughts quietened as he shut his eyes and awaited the inevitable. There was nothing more to be said or done. The tears trailing down his cheeks might have belonged to someone else, for all the feeling there was behind them now. He’d moved beyond despair to a quiet place where he seemed to be detached from it all, looking on with a wistful sense of sadness that things had to end this way.

He thought of all the flaws in the world, then all of the beauty. The most beautiful thing of all being a sweet young Japanese man who’d made him feel alive again. Who’d reached deeper into his heart than anyone ever had, and claimed it as his own; and who’d given his in return, without fear or subterfuge – in trust and honesty, his extraordinary plain self, the very essence that was him.

Yuuri.

They’d known each other for less than two years. Turned out they’d had to fit a lifetime of love into them.

Well. They’d tried.

***

As Yuuri approached the jail with his friends, he heard it before he saw it. Some sort of gathering. Men were shouting. It reminded him of a political rally. But…near a jail?

“Somethin’ ain’t right here,” Chris said, echoing his thoughts. “Have your guns ready, guys. We might have to change our plans. Ride along nice an’ slow until we can figure out what’s goin’ on.”

They veered over to the trees, where they could have some cover and approach the building from the side. That was when they finally caught sight of the group of men surrounding Victor, who was sitting on a horse with a noose being fitted around his neck, motionless, his eyes closed.

Yuuri sucked in a quick breath as he took in the scene ahead of them in the distance, struggling to believe his eyes. He heard mutters of “Jesus Christ” and “What the hell” around him but was unable to muster any noise of his own, his throat as constricted as if his was the one inside the noose. Blind instinct told him to ride, ride as fast as he could and save Victor. But he still had enough sense left to know it would be suicidal to try.

“Get in the trees – now,” Chris whispered urgently. “Outa sight. We gotta think what to do, and pronto.”

They all led their horses further into the shade, and then looked at each other, fear and horror mirrored in each pair of eyes.

 _You were raised as the boss’s son. To take charge. Victor needs you. There are five of us, and we may have seconds to act. Don’t get lost in your feelings right now – think, think…_ None of them was a sharp-shooter who would be able to precisely aim a bullet to cut through the rope, unless he had an extraordinary amount of luck. No, something else was needed. Yuuri took in their surroundings, and then had an idea.

“The pens for the cattle market are over there,” Yuuri said quickly. He pointed, and the others looked. “They’re full – looks like several hundred head. Chris, Zach and Jeff, do you think you can ride over there, around the other side of the jailhouse where those guys aren’t likely to see you, and create a distraction? Something to grab everybody’s attention so that Phichit and I can get to Victor and get him out of there.”

“Sure thang,” Chris said. “C’mon, guys. We gotta get over there quicker than lightnin’, and work out what we’re gonna do when we get there.” He galloped away on his horse along with his two colleagues, who gave Yuuri and Phichit a quick wave. The mob was so intent on its purpose that no one turned to notice the riders heading past the jailhouse.

Yuuri was left sitting on Biscuit, with Luchik at his side, feeling more helpless than he’d ever felt in his life, and that included being held prisoner in his own house. Any minute – any _second_ – and that rabble could have Victor dangling from the tree. A mewling sound escaped from his throat and he clenched the reins with one sweaty hand, holding the butt of his gun in the other. A sudden blinding fury descended upon him, from himself at himself, for all the idiotic, careless actions he’d taken with Victor that had risked their exposure. He still didn’t know what had happened to bring it about, and maybe he never would; but if he’d just been more cautious, more discreet…It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been warned. And yet now he was about to lose the one thing that was most precious to him. Right in front of his eyes. He let out a sob. _Come on, Chris, come on come on come on…_

“Yuuri.” Phichit reined his horse up and laid a hand over his forearm. “We’re going to help him. Just send up a prayer.”

Yuuri would pray for the rest of his life if he thought it would get them out of this situation. The irony of it all was that it was the reverend who seemed to be holding up proceedings at the moment. Yuuri couldn’t make out his words at this distance, but he was obviously expounding on something. _Fine. Tell them all what sinners we are. Quote the Bible at them. Give them a good old sermon. Buy us some time._ But the holy man’s audience appeared to be getting restless as they shifted and started talking to each other.

“We need to start making our way over there,” Yuuri told Phichit. “Through these trees, where they’re not likely to notice us. As close as we can.”

He heard Phichit take a shaky breath. “Sure, Yuuri. Just…be careful, OK?”

They were about fifty yards away from the mob, by Yuuri’s judgment, when the shots rang out. He and Phichit jerked their heads around to see Chris, Zach and Jeff clinging on to the gates they’d opened and firing their guns into the sky. Terrified cattle were rushing out, toward the group of men, from which loud cries sprang. They either spurred their horses in the opposite direction, or scrambled to mount them. The men flanking Victor swiftly fled, and the reverend turned this way and that on his horse in confusion before riding away himself.

Yuuri guided Biscuit into the swiftest gallop she could manage, Luchik flying alongside them, Phichit not far behind. His eyes were fixed in determination on Victor, who was staring in wide-eyed alarm at the approaching cattle. _This isn’t how it’s going to end either, damn it._ Yuuri hoped all the trick roping he’d done over the years had given him enough skill to free Victor from his bonds in a flash, because that was all the time they’d have before the new threat was upon them.

Victor finally seemed to have heard their approach above the thundering noise of the cattle, and shifted his body slightly to look. His mouth dropped open and his eyes were still wide. “Yuuri!”

“Phichit, get his hands free,” Yuuri said as he immediately started loosening the noose. With his face inches from Victor’s as he worked, he managed a crooked smile, even as his breaths came fast. “Hey, beautiful. Nice to see you again.”

“Yuuri,” Victor breathed more softly, returning his smile.

“Done,” Phichit announced, just as Yuuri pulled the noose away.

“Get onto Luchik and let’s get the hell out of here,” Yuuri said.

Victor sprang cleanly into the saddle and quickly guided his horse away from the oncoming herd, keeping pace with his rescuers. They began to put distance between themselves and the wall of cattle, and Yuuri was tempted to breathe a sigh of relief that the worst was over, when he heard gunshots sounding from somewhere up ahead. A puff of dust kicked up before Biscuit, and he heard another shot whizz past his ear.

“What the hell!” he shouted, scanning the area frantically and then spying a whole group of men on horseback scattered in the distance in front of them; it looked like they had been lying in wait. “Are they insane? They’ll get trampled!”

“Not before shooting us dead, apparently,” Victor said.

“Maybe we should try to head back toward the wood over there, where that horse went that Victor was sitting on,” Phichit suggested. They all veered in that direction, but it allowed the stampede to gain on them, and the bullets continued to fly. The little wood was only small and sparse, but it was shelter of some kind at least, and might provide the buffer between a rock and a hard place, or at least Yuuri desperately hoped.

Then, as another round of bullets zinged past them, one of them hit its mark. Yuuri heard Victor make a noise as if he’d been kicked in the stomach, and turned his head to see a large blotch of crimson blossoming across the white of his shirt.

_“Victor!”_

Before Yuuri could react, Victor’s eyes closed and he fell from Luchik. Yuuri began to guide Biscuit to a halt, but Phichit cried out.

“Yuuri, they’re coming this way!”

He glanced ahead and saw the gunmen riding at them as if the herd of cattle didn’t exist. Perhaps they were gloating over having brought one of them down and thought they could do the same to the others and still stay ahead of the stampede. Whatever was in their loco brains, Yuuri didn’t care. One of them had a smoking gun and was looking at Victor, motionless on the ground, as if he was pleased with his work.

 _I’ll wipe that smirk off your face, you bastard_ , Yuuri thought, and fired his gun. A spray of red erupted from the man’s chest, and he tottered off his horse to the earth.

“Yuuri!” Phichit called in a high voice. “Follow me!”

“I can’t leave Victor!”

“There’s no sense in everyone getting trampled! Come on!”

_“No!”_

“Yuuri!” Phichit shouted in despair, urging his horse forward until he at last reached the trees. With his mind suddenly in shutdown, and the thunder of the approaching cattle upon him, Yuuri mechanically followed. The screams and yells behind him told of quite a few people who had misjudged their own safety in pursuit of the fugitives and were now about to pay the price.

The world had gone mad.


	47. Chapter 47

 

 _He was my North, my South, my East and West,_  
_My working week and Sunday rest,_  
_My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;_  
_I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong._  
  
_The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;_  
_Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;_  
_Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;_  
_For nothing now can ever come to any good._

__

_W._ _H. Auden_

__

 

__

The rock art cave. That was where they said to go. Yuuri could see the entrance up ahead, a dark fissure in the gold sandstone cliff. It faced east and was draped in shadow now, underneath the silhouette of the mountains. The last light of the day faded behind, reflecting dazzlingly off of scrappy white clouds floating just above the jagged peaks.

__

Yuuri didn’t feel like going any further. He was walking next to Biscuit, her reins draped loosely in one hand. He saw, he experienced. He did not think or feel. If those floodgates were opened, it was entirely possible that everything that was left of him would be drowned and swept away.

__

Well, it was easy enough to function in that state in the heat of the moment, when the danger was immediate, and the need to decide and act in a rational manner paramount. Now, here, by himself, with the adrenaline having drained from his system and only exhaustion remaining, as well as stark reality pounding on the door to be allowed in…

__

No. It was unthinkable. He would _not_ allow it in.

__

Yuuri and Phichit had somehow ended up back by the gates of the cattle market pens, which had all emptied. Chris and Zach and Jeff had been there on their horses, waiting to flee. Too dangerous there for any of them, especially Yuuri, they said. The sheriff would be along soon. Men had died, there were dead and wounded cows and calves…the carnage had been terrible. Yuuri could only think about one thing. _Victor. I have to go back for Victor. I can’t leave him behind._ But Chris said what the rational portion of his mind, which had taken leave of him at the time, would have known: no one could have survived being trampled by a stampede, especially not a man who had been mortally wounded and was lying on the ground. It pained him to say it, but it was possible that Victor had been dead before he’d even fallen off his horse. At which point the numbness had reached its fingers down through Yuuri’s mind and heart; and ever since, it had felt like he’d been floating in a freezing stream, drifting where he was taken, sinking deeper into a void.

__

_Yuuri, the rock art cave isn’t far from here. You know the one. Nobody will think of looking for you there. You should be safe for tonight at least. I’ll come see you in the morning, or at least send news._ So Phichit had said. Yuuri had had no reason to object, so he’d gone. And here he was.

__

He stared blankly, stupidly, at the cave entrance. Out of habit, his fingers began the ritual of rolling a quirly. But it was getting hard to see, with the sun going down. He dug into a saddlebag until he found a lantern, then lit it and hung it on the side of his saddle. Next he reached for his glasses in his vest pocket. His fingers expected to find the soft, battered old leather case he always kept them in. Not a wooden box.

__

He drew it out and looked at it in the light of the lantern, running a finger across the lid, dark and slick with lacquer. The peacock and the Cossack warrior glinted in the yellow glow. Then both of his hands started to shake, and he put the box back in his vest pocket.

__

_Victor got you to stop smoking. Don’t destroy what he left you._ As if he could, anyway. He no longer carried any smoking paraphernalia with him. What had he been thinking?

__

_Don’t destroy what he left you._

__

_But he took everything with him. I loved him, and he’s gone._

__

_Gone._

__

Yuuri looked up at the pink sky above the mountains and yearned to chase the sun, to bring it back and light up this benighted world. He covered his mouth with his hands and stared with wide eyes, taking slow pulling breaths. No tears would come. He was beyond them.

__

“You can’t leave me behind like this,” Yuuri whispered. “You said you weren’t going anywhere…you said.” He had no idea how long he stood, watching the light slowly fade, the pink turning to purple. “Don’t go,” his voice quietly rode on the breeze.

__

He hugged his arms to his chest. Biscuit whinnied. Locking his swirling emotions into a tight ball that lodged in his abdomen, sickening him, Yuuri led her the rest of the way to the cave. He took her inside with him, stood the lantern on the earthen floor, unpacked his bedroll, and climbed inside.

__

It smelled of Victor, and of lavender.

__

He dug his fingers into the fabric, pulling it close and breathing in its lingering scent, curling his knees to his chest, and gradually fell into merciful blackness.          

__

***

__

The next morning was the most unwelcome one of his life. Yuuri didn’t want to wake up, because waking up meant facing the horrors of the previous day all over again.

__

But with the sunlight spilling in from the cave entrance, he had no choice. Sleep had eluded him. With the same mechanical motions of the night before, he climbed out of the bedroll and packed it back on Biscuit. Oh, he’d left the lantern burning too.

__

It illuminated the walls of the little area; the word “cave” was too grand for it. It was just a niche in the cliff, really. There were petroglyphs here that had been carved long ago by Native Americans; no one knew how old they were. They showed people hunting buffalo, and circles that had spokes or other concentric circles inside. There were other fantastic-looking creatures that had never been definitively identified.

__

On the opposite wall were more modern and recognizable designs that had obviously been made to complement the originals, as if subsequent artists had come here to pay them homage; Yuuri knew that some had done so only recently. Native Americans on horseback fired arrows. There were tepees and more buffalo, cowboys and guns and pretty women. Eagles and bears and stags. And a large bird rising up from a smoldering pile of ashes that was no doubt meant to be a phoenix, rendered in appropriately fiery colors that were set off by the glow of the lantern.

__

Yuuri and Phichit used to enjoy coming here to look at the art, and it made a good hideout as well when they hadn’t cared to be found. But Yuuri had no sense of those happy moments now; no sense of anything at all, other than a crushing weight on his chest, pushing him down, down.

__

He lowered the wick of the lantern until it died, then hung it back on his saddle until it was cool enough to pack away. Then he led Biscuit outside, where she promptly began grazing at the sparse grass. He staked her out and stared at the empty land around him, as if in a daze.

__

The internal two-voiced dialogue started up again.

__

_I need to find out what happened to Victor._

__

_You know what happened to him._

__

_I need to see._

__

_Don’t you think that would make it a hundred times worse? Is that the way you want to remember him?_

__

_Maybe he left something behind._

__

_Trampled into the dust and blood?_

__

“Jesus,” Yuuri breathed aloud.

__

The next thought that struck him was that he’d killed a man.

__

The horseman had indeed posed a threat, and so no one would argue it had been for any reason other than self-defense.

__

But Yuuri knew what had been in his heart. It had been a sudden, raging thirst for vengeance, because that man had shot Victor. And he’d acted upon it. He, who had been raised by a Quaker mother to shun such weapons, and to believe that taking an eye for an eye would only make you blind.

__

He tore his gun out of its holster and flung it away in disgust. It flew to land in a clump of weeds yards away. He wished he could tear his aching heart out as well and do the same. The pain was relentless, and there didn’t seem to be anything in the world with the power to soothe it.

__

It felt like the container he’d stuffed everything into the night before – or tried to – had become overfull, and its contents were now leaking out to poison his system. It was all too much, just too much to bear. He sank down and curled himself over so that his face was against his knees; then he wrapped his arms over his head and began to wail. The sounds weren’t loud, but long and keening. Once he’d lanced the turmoil out, however, all that remained inside of him was emptiness.

__

He didn’t know how he’d be able to live like this.

__

He didn’t want to live at all. What was the point, without Victor?

__

_I can’t do this without you, Vitya. I can’t go back to how I was. Everything changed with you. So wonderful, so alive. There’s no one else like you. There never will be._

__

_The gun isn’t far away. I could go and find it. I could end this now._

__

Yuuri stared at the weeds where he was fairly sure the weapon had landed.

__

_Is that what Victor would want you to do?_

__

That inner voice that spoke to him as ‘you’ – was it meant to be like a parent? A friend? Or maybe just the better part of himself, wherever that was hiding? Regardless, he listened to it now, because there was no denying it had a point.

__

_How exactly would you justify such an action to him, if he were standing right here?_

__

The thought filled Yuuri with horror. It gave him the energy to act, if only in the sense of pulling himself further away from the brink of the abyss he’d been staring into.

__

If he couldn’t live for himself, maybe he could live for Victor. That was the one thing that might just give him the strength to carry on. But he had no clue how he’d deal with the pain.

__

He was aware that he was carrying the relics of the dead in his vest pockets. There could never be any change to what had happened; none of them could be brought back. And that was the reality he would have to live with.

__

“Yuuri!”         

__

He turned and saw Phichit riding toward him. Ordinarily he would have heard if not seen him before now, even if it was to sense the vibrations of his horse’s hoofbeats through the ground. But then again, he would normally take more care with his own actions as well – wondering who or what might be likely to see or smell or hear him, and being accordingly cautious. Wailing in grief hadn’t been the safest thing to do, especially now. As if it mattered.

__

“Yuuri,” Phichit spoke again as he reined his horse up next to Biscuit and jumped off. “I, um…” He seemed suddenly lost for words as he took in the appearance of his friend. “H-how are you? Wait – stupid question.”

__

“Hi, Phichit. I’ve been better.” He folded his arms across his chest and looked at the ground. “Look…despite everything that happened, he said quietly, “I want to thank you and the others for what you did to help. You risked your lives for me and Victor.”

__

“Hey, that’s what we cowboys do, right? We take care of each other. Speaking of which…we haven’t got much time. But I figure we’ve got a few minutes to talk, anyway.”

__

“Did the others make it back to their ranches OK?”

__

“Yeah. I think we’re all going to be fine, Yuuri, so don’t worry about us. Everything yesterday turned out to be such a mess that the sheriff hardly knows where to start, from what I hear – but seeing as how that posse was trying to shoot us dead, I don’t think we’re going to be hauled to jail any time soon for defending ourselves. Apart from…well, uh…Like I said, I’ll get to that in a minute.”

__

“Get to what?”

__

“Yuuri…it isn’t safe for you here. Have you thought about what you’re going to do?”

__

Yuuri sighed. “No. Apart from trying to see if Victor…if he left anything behind. But…even if I could sneak over there, I don’t suppose I’d want to see – ”

__

“Believe me, Yuuri, you wouldn’t,” Phichit said quickly, and Yuuri looked at him, taking in his agitated expression. A young guy with such a fun-loving, effervescent personality should not have haunted eyes like that, he thought. It had been selfish of him to carry on as if he’d been the only one touched in some way by the events of the previous day. Others would be mourning for Victor, for the man Yuuri had shot, for those killed in the stampede.

__

“There was…um…well, the place was a mess,” Phichit continued. “From what we could see, at least. We didn’t stick around to take a closer look. There was a deputy lying on the jailhouse porch when we went past, and he was groaning and trying to sit up; we reckon he’d probably been lured outside so that the posse could haul Victor out of jail. Usually we would’ve stopped to help, but under the circumstances, we thought it was better just to get out of there.”

__

“I’m glad you all are OK.” He swayed for a moment, putting his hand against Biscuit to regain his balance.

__

“Yuuri, have you eaten anything lately? Have you had water? We filled your canteen for you and packed some dry food in your saddlebags – did you see?”

__

Yuuri blinked. “Um…I had some orange juice yesterday, I think.”

__

“Jesus.” Phichit looked in Yuuri’s saddlebags and quickly found his canteen, which he held out. Yuuri accepted it without comment and took some sips. “You’ve got to take care of yourself. You’d better eat – you’re going to need the strength.”

__

“What are all these mysterious comments about?” Yuuri snapped, slinging the canteen on the side of his saddle. “What’s going on that you haven’t told me about, Phichit?”

__

“Yuuri…well, you know some people are going to be sore at you because you got away from your dad’s house and then tried to help Victor escape, and enough people were already out to…um, wanted to punish you in the first place for…” He drew a deep breath. “This isn’t easy to talk about.”

__

“Try standing in my shoes,” Yuuri said in a low, hoarse voice. “Try watching the person you love most in the whole world almost get hanged, and then get shot in front of you just when you thought you’d saved him. Just try, Phichit, and see how it feels!” He yelled out the final sentence, then gasped a breath as he looked up at the sky, wiping at his eyes.

__

Phichit said after a moment’s silence, during which Yuuri struggled to regain his composure, “I can’t imagine. I’m so sorry, Yuuri.”

__

“Me too,” Yuuri whispered.

__

“But…you’ve got to know…There are still people who want to find you – and when they do, I don’t want to think about what they’re planning. I don’t know if they think they’ve got the law behind them, or if they’re taking it into their own hands. But aside from the other stuff they want you for, the…the guy you shot was a deputy, Yuuri. Someone by the name of Red. That’s really poked a stick in an ants’ nest.”

__

Yuuri raised his eyebrows. “Then what the fuck was he doing riding at us and trying to shoot us? He should have been trying to stop the posse, not joining them.”

__

“Well I agree. But you know that out here, if you shoot a lawman, whether or not he’s a crooked son of a gun, you’re going to be in trouble.”

__

Yuuri sighed. “OK. So if I hadn’t been planning to leave before – which, if I’d thought about it, I think I would’ve been – I’d better think about it now.”

__

“You’re going to have to make it quick. Because when I left the ranch, the word going around was that a small posse was out to find someone with a tracker dog so that they could go after you.”

__

“What – ?” Yuuri thought about Toby, and how he’d tracked Victor through the muddy chaos a vicious storm had wreaked days before. If he could do that…“Fuck.” His hands began to shake. Maybe it really hadn’t been a good idea to ignore his body’s needs all this time, because he was already feeling weak, and Phichit was right – it was going to take all his strength to get away. _If_ it was even worth trying. “Maybe I should give myself up,” he said.

__

“Yuuri, please,” Phichit said quickly, “I…I don’t want them to do to you what they were going to do to Victor. And your dad won’t be happy either, after you got out of the house.” He put a gentle hand on Yuuri’s arm. “I know that it must be a shock for you, everything that’s happened…but you’ve still got friends here, and we want you to be OK. I…think Victor would want you to be OK too,” he added in a small voice.

__

Yuuri quelled the indignation that welled up inside of him and wanted to demand, _How dare_ you _tell_ me _what Victor would want?_ Phichit was trying to help, and he was correct besides. But making the decision in his mind, and finding the physical and emotional strength to carry it out, were two different things. He didn’t know how to summon them up.

__

“Do you think you can eat anything at all while you’re riding?” Phichit asked him. “I know you usually lose your appetite when you’re upset, but some hardtack or something might go down OK, you reckon?”

__

“I…um, yeah, maybe.”

__

“And…I’ve got something else for you.” He took an envelope out of his vest pocket and handed it to Yuuri.

__

“What’s this?” It had clearly been stuffed full of something. There was no writing on the outside, but it was sealed at the back.

__

“Your mom came to the bunkhouse last night. She looked pretty upset. Well, who can blame her, I guess. She saw me, and asked me what had happened, and I told her, though not where you’d gone. She, um…she said she thought it would be a good idea for you to get away and make a new start somewhere else. And…she gave me that to give to you, saying it might help,” he finished as Yuuri opened the envelope and pulled out a stack of cash. “Holy crap,” he said as he watched Yuuri quietly leaf through the notes. “She was right about that, at least. I’ve never seen such a big stack outside of a bank.”

__

Yuuri was stunned. It was yet another impossible thing to take in, something vaguely threatening that he couldn’t wrap his head around right now. His mother giving him this much money…why? And had she been hiding it under her mattress all this time? He knew his father saved his money in banks and took out investments; he even knew where and how much, or had known before he’d gone to the Circle C. She wouldn’t have had access to those. This must have been her own, somehow. He’d have to think about it later, he decided as he stuffed the envelope into a vest pocket.

__

“You’d better get going, Yuuri,” Phichit said. “I used to have a neighbor with a tracker dog. Took it hunting with him. From what I can remember him mentioning about it, speed is your best bet – just keep going and try to outrun them. And go through any towns around that you know of, try to confuse the scent that way. Wild areas with brush and fences will slow them down. Maybe they’ll give up eventually, but you might have to get a long way away first. I…I guess we won’t be seeing you around any time soon.” His voice choked.

__

Yuuri gave him a sad smile. “You really are the best, Phichit. Thanks.” They embraced, and then Yuuri mounted Biscuit.

__

“Where are you going to go?”

__

“What direction are the guys with the dog going to be coming from?”

__

“That way, I suppose.” Phichit pointed south, in the direction from which he’d approached.

__

“I’m going north, then.”

__

“I’ll miss you, Yuuri. Find some way to let us know how you’re doing?”

__

Yuuri nodded. “’Til…’til we meet again, pard.” With that, he urged Biscuit into a gallop. He did not look back.

__


	48. Chapter 48

_But I won’t cry for yesterday_  
_There’s an ordinary world_  
_Somehow I have to find_  
_And as I try to make my way_  
_To the ordinary world_  
_I will learn to survive_

                        _Duran Duran,_  [ _Ordinary World_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dDLiVwpv89s)

__

 

__

 

__

**5 years later: August, 1881**

__

**Clearwater, Wyoming Territory**

__

 

__

_Shit,_ Yuuri thought, _this has all gone wrong._ “Scramble, guys – get out of here now!” he shouted to the other cowboys, urging Biscuit away in a flash as more gunfire erupted behind him.

__

Ever since word had gotten around that he earmarked his cattle instead of branding them, he’d had trouble with rustlers on his land. They were attracted by the fact that they could simply cut a piece of the cow’s ear off. Yuuri had always hated branding – he knew it was intensely painful for the animal, and the whole area would end up smelling like singed hair and barbecue. Not that he was very keen on earmarking either. He’d been considering other options lately.

__

Now a bunch of rustlers had been brazen enough to venture out onto the open range, not far from the ranch, in full daylight, and had been busy clipping the ears off the cattle. Yuuri and several other men from the ranch had come across them by accident. And this time the rustlers had been desperate, or loco, enough to not only stand their ground, but put up a fight. They’d started shooting as soon as they realized they’d been spotted. There appeared to be five or six of them, though it was hard to tell – others could be hiding in the scrubby bushes that dotted the range.

__

Yuuri intended to ride straight out to the sheriff. That was, if he got away from here with his life. _I am_ not _going to end my days this way,_ he thought, anger superseding fear as he turned backward to see if he could get off a clear shot. He’d run for his life before; he’d shot someone with less justification than he had now. None of this was new or shocking to him, but he did not welcome the situation with any more relish now than he had then.

__

A bullet pinged off his saddle horn. That was too close. He watched his men heading back to the ranch; the rustlers didn’t seem to have any desire to follow in that direction. But they were still following Yuuri as he rode toward the town, and still firing. There was nothing around to use as cover. Spiky clusters of wheatgrass and sedge poked up from the dirt, with the nearest cottonwoods a good distance away. Here on the open range, Yuuri was a clear target.

__

He only had one choice left. As Biscuit continued to gallop, he eased his way down the side of the saddle and then underneath, where he clung with his legs in the hoops there. He could just about twist his back and neck around enough to see the riders behind him, and aim. But a vision swam up before him of another man from another time with a smoking gun; a man who had never known what hit him as Yuuri had aimed, fired, and killed in a blossom of crimson. One life taken was too many.

__

_You stupid bastards,_ Yuuri thought as he lowered his gun and watched them from beneath Biscuit. _This isn’t work risking anyone’s life for – not yours, not mine, not my men’s._

__

As Biscuit flew along, Yuuri’s pursuers seemed uncertain how to aim; they were facing his horse’s backside, with the rider well concealed underneath. Finally, on the outskirts of town, they seemed to realize they had little chance of success, and fell back. Yuuri pulled himself upright on the saddle and holstered his gun as Biscuit took him down the main street to the sheriff’s office, which was situated next to one of the large saloons. Clearwater was a sizeable town, with plenty of amenities, though Yuuri didn’t visit it very often. He’d rarely needed to have dealings with Sheriff Atkinson in the past, but it was becoming a more frequent – and distasteful – occurrence. He wasn’t exactly the most helpful lawman Yuuri had ever come across.

__

He tied Biscuit to the hitching post and went inside. Sheriff Atkinson, a stout middle-aged man with thinning dirt-brown hair, was sitting at the desk, smoking a cigar and reading a newspaper. He looked up with a stoical face. “Afternoon,” he said, his eyes dropping back to the newspaper.

__

“Sheriff. Someone’s been shooting at me and my men just now.”

__

“That so?” He looked up again at Yuuri as if he were the last page of news in his paper, about as full of excitement as cats being stuck up trees.

__

“That’s so. I don’t take kindly to being threatened in that way. You know it’s not the first time, either. When I spoke with you last – ”

__

“I said I’d look into it.” He puffed on his cigar. “You gotta give me some time. I only got a handful of men, and you ain’t the only person around here with problems.”

__

“You don’t think being shot at is problem enough to go to the top of your list?”

__

“Look, just last night a fight broke out next door in the Ball and Chain Saloon, an’ the two guys had a pistol duel outside. They was so drunk, they came closer to shootin’ the people watchin’ than each other. Like I said, you ain’t the only person around here with problems.”

__

Yuuri took a deep breath and willed himself to stay calm. “I have a right to some protection for my family and men if rustlers are getting bold enough to be pulling their guns out. I want you to send a deputy to the ranch.”

__

The sheriff considered him over the smoking butt of his cigar. “How’d you get away if they was shootin’ at ya?” he asked in mild curiosity.

__

“I…climbed down my saddle and hid under my horse. She brought me here.” He said more hotly, “If I hadn’t been able to do that, I might not be standing here right now.”

__

The sheriff smirked. “I didn’t know your kind had the balls for that sort of stuff.”

__

Yuuri’s eyes widened, and there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth, but he just stared and said nothing.

__

“All right,” Atkinson sighed. “I’ll send Zeke over to see ya when he can. That make ya happy?”

__

“It’s a start,” Yuuri said flatly, then turned and left.

__

He had been used to this treatment to varying degrees all his life. Just his luck that he’d ended up living near a town with a racist sonofabitch for a sheriff, he thought as he unhitched Biscuit and began making his way back to the ranch. The hot summer sun beat down, and he bent over to take his Stetson out of his bag and put it on.

__

His saddle was still in good shape; he made sure he checked it over several times a week and repaired bits as they needed it. The trick riding wasn’t something he practiced regularly anymore, and he was a little rusty at it. As far as the gymnastics he used to do on top of Biscuit, and bareback to boot…he’d probably break his neck trying now. Thinking about it was like recalling a dream. But he still did tricks on his saddle and with his rope from time to time, mostly to please himself, because it was fun…or had been, when he was with Victor.

__

It had been over five years since his death, and Yuuri still couldn’t think about him without the ball of grief that was permanently wedged inside of him emerging from dormancy and making his heart ache. Sometimes he could recall things they’d done together, like performing in the rodeo or taming mustangs or doing gymnastics in the stable, and smile. But if he went any deeper, and began to re-experience the feelings evoked by memories of hugs, kisses, caresses, words of love spoken in tangled embraces…it was too intense, too awful to bear. Shutting it out made him feel numb, as if he were locking part of himself away. But better to do that than open the door to nightmares.

__

He stuffed it all back in its box as best he could as he rode under the wooden sign that proclaimed the Star and Bar Ranch and led Biscuit to the stable, where several ranch hands had been waiting anxiously. He told them briefly about his encounter with the sheriff as he put Biscuit in her stall.

__

“Said he’d send a deputy around. I wouldn’t hold my breath, though.”

__

“But, boss – this is just gonna keep happenin’ if no one does anything about it,” said Patrick, the slim black-haired foreman. “We shouldn’t have to be out there herdin’ cattle with our guns drawn, waitin’ for an attack any minute.”

__

“I don’t think the situation’s as drastic as that. Anyway, while we’re waiting for the sheriff to do his job, I’ll see what else I can come up with. I’ve been thinking about starting to fence in the range – that might be a good move for all kinds of reasons.” He gave Biscuit’s neck a stroke. “And, Pat…I told you before, no one calls me ‘boss’ here. It’s just Yuuri, OK?”

__

“OK,” he said with a smile. “Guess I’m just not used to it yet, bein’ new, but give me time. I ain’t never had a boss that wanted to be called by his first name before.”

__

“Glad to have introduced you to a new experience, then. See you later,” Yuuri said as he walked out of the stable and toward the house. It wasn’t a grand affair – one story, made of white-painted wood, similar to the one he had grown up in. But it was warm and friendly, roomy and comfortable, and he was looking forward to sitting inside and resting after a frankly shitty day.

__

May was standing on the porch, waiting for him. Her mahogany hair had been pulled back from her forehead and hung in ringlets down her back and over her shoulders, just past her collarbones. She wore a cotton dress of a pine-green material with a pattern of white flowers, with long billowy sleeves fitted at the wrists. A white lace collar adorned her throat, and a white apron with gravy stains was tied around her waist. Yuuri thought she looked as beautiful as always. At her side was their daughter, Taki, who would turn three soon; she had her father’s dark hair and sparkling eyes, and wore a sky-blue dress that flounced over her legs as she jumped up and down, excited to see Yuuri at the end of the day.

__

“Hey, sweetheart,” Yuuri said to the little girl, sweeping her up in his arms. She giggled at being lifted so high so fast, and he kissed her cheek, then held her against his hip. “What have you been up to today?”

__

“We went to visit Clara and her mom,” she answered, grabbing at the brim of his hat. He pried her fingers off and played with them, and she giggled again.

__

“Keeping in touch with the neighbors, are you?” Yuuri said to May, leaning over to give her lips a quick kiss as they went into the house.

__

“It’s nice to say hi to people once in a while, you know,” she said with a smile. “I saw some of the men riding past earlier – looked like there might have been a problem?” Her hazel eyes searched his inquisitively.

__

“Nothing you need to worry about,” he answered, putting Taki down and stroking the back of her head. “Rustlers again, but I’ve been back to the sheriff about that, and I’ll keep going if I have to.”

__

She made a harrumphing sound and walked into the kitchen, from which the aroma of roast beef floated, Yuuri and Taki following. “That sheriff is about as much use as a bump on a log.”

__

“Well you’ve got that right,” Yuuri said, scratching his head. He looked down to see Taki about to pull a full glass of water off of the dining table. “Don’t do that, honey; it could fall and break.” He picked it up and placed it out of reach, then took her tin cup and handed it to her. “I think I ought to look into buying some barbed wire and start fencing the range in.”

__

“You think that’ll stop the rustlers? It’s nothing a big pair of shears couldn’t cut through.”

__

“That’s the way things are headed anyway.” He sat down at the table, and Taki climbed onto a chair beside him. “With the cattle penned in, it’d be easier to feed them. And they won’t have to stray as far from the ranch, so it won’t take so much work to round them up.”

__

“It’d be a big job to put fencing all around here,” May said as she brought the roast over to the table on a platter.

__

“I could do it, with some help from the other men.”

__

She leaned down to kiss his cheek. “You’re full of good ideas.”

__

“That’s what happens when you’re inspired by an amazing lady.”

__

She chuckled. “You’re a real smooth operator.” She disappeared to dish up the rest of the meal.

__

“What’s a smooth operter?” Taki said, picking her fork up in her fist.

__

“It’s someone who tries to be charming.” When she gave him a blank look, he added, “When someone tries hard to get you to like them.” He gave her a little grin. “Not you. You don’t have to try. You’re a natural.”   

__


	49. Chapter 49

Unsurprisingly, the deputy did not appear as promised over the next several days, and Yuuri embarked upon a trip to Chicago with worries at the back of his mind about the safety of the people on the ranch, with the rustlers around. With luck, getting caught as they had the other day would make them think twice about targeting the Star and Bar again, at least anytime soon.

The trip, though not the kind he enjoyed very much, couldn’t be helped; if he was going to run a ranch, he had to stay in contact with businesses that bought the cattle, and Chicago was the largest meatpacking center in the country. He didn’t dare do business with people who knew his father – even though he now went by his original surname of Katsuki, he would still be recognized on sight – but there were plenty of other contracts to be had. And while he didn’t have the skills of a salesman, he’d at least been raised to understand how to do what he needed to do to make good enough deals to stay in business.

Unfortunately, the day he left, May found out from Patrick that the incident with the rustlers had been a shootout. The foreman must have assumed that Yuuri had told her, but he’d deliberately omitted that detail so as not to worry her; there was no good reason for her to know that he’d been in danger of losing his life. She’d said she wasn’t as fragile as he seemed to think, and didn’t want protecting, and had a right to know what had happened. Yuuri admired the way she spoke her mind; she was intelligent and confident. But it could be abrasive at times, too. His instinct as her husband was to take care of her, and in his opinion that included acting as a buffer between her and the horribleness that was sometimes produced by the world around them, unless it was necessary to do otherwise. That was what husbands did…wasn’t it? Even after several years, this was a new kind of relationship that he’d never had any experience of, and he still didn’t feel he understood women very well. He was not about to try to hold the Taylors’ marriage up as a shining example to base his own actions on. The only other woman he’d known well was Clarissa…and she was rather unique.

He’d apologized – not very sincerely – to May for not having told her about the shootout; and she’d said, seemingly with an equal amount of sincerity, that it was OK. And he’d taken his leave. It was a long trip out to the big midwestern city; ironically, a substantial part of it consisted of the shorter distance from Clearwater, in north central Wyoming near the Rocky Mountains, to Green River in the south, which was the nearest place where he could catch a Union Pacific train to Omaha; there he changed trains and traveled across Iowa and Illinois to Chicago. The easiest way to the south of Wyoming Territory would have been via stagecoach, but as those still posed a problem, Yuuri rode Biscuit and then left her at a livery, paying well in the hope that they would take good care of her.

He thought maybe all the traveling, and negotiating the big city, would be more fun when Taki was older and he could take her along. There were plenty of entertainments on offer, but Yuuri’s heart wasn’t in it, and when he wasn’t in business meetings he spent time walking along the shores of the mammoth Great Lake or reading in his hotel room. It would have been nice if May could have been there, but one of them had to stay behind to ensure all was well on the ranch; it was rare for them to be able to take trips together as a family.

What would Victor have made of it? he wondered. He’d never asked him where he’d traveled before or after he’d arrived in the United States; all he knew was that he’d worked on ranches in Colorado and Wyoming. It struck him that there had still been a lot about Victor to discover. Then his stomach convulsed, and he went outside for some fresh air.

After several days in the Windy City, Yuuri embarked upon the train to Omaha. He was not looking forward to the long journey back, which required a ten-hour train trip for a start, just to get to Omaha. And it always felt strange, traveling between the worlds of the ranches out west and these bustling cities with their crowds and tall buildings and busy streets. Well, Biscuit awaited him in Green River, and it should be a pleasant ride from there to Clearwater across beautiful country at this time of year. He could afford to take his time with it and try to relax.

Once inside the passenger car, he briefly took in his surroundings. Not many other people had a desire to travel west this morning, it seemed, and he had his pick of places to sit. He found an upholstered bench in the corner and settled in, idly watching people moving to and fro on the station platform outside the window. The benches in this car were in sets of two that faced one another, but as not many other passengers boarded, Yuuri thought he might be lucky enough to spend the journey in quiet solitude; there were few things more irritating than someone forcing their company on him in such circumstances, when it was difficult if not impossible to get away, while they yammered on until he felt he would explode if they didn’t shut up. He opened the copy of the _Chicago Tribune_ he’d bought at the station and started to read as the train pulled out with a puff of steam and a long whistle.

About half an hour later, he was reading about how a town in England had become the first in the world to install a public electricity supply – it seemed, he thought, that Clearwater would have some catching up to do, not having laid on gas yet – when, strangely enough, an Englishman asked if Yuuri minded if he sat down on the bench across from him. At least, he thought he sounded like an Englishman; he had only ever heard the accent a few times in his life. And yes, he did mind, but he was too polite to say, and simply nodded and went back to reading about the electric town.

Some time while later, the man stood. “I could do with something to drink,” he said. “Would you like me to get you anything from the buffet car?”

Yuuri looked up. “Hm? Oh, no, thanks.” He went back to reading as the man disappeared. He reappeared about a quarter of an hour later with a cup of something on a saucer, which he sipped at as he sat down.

“I must admit I’m surprised to have found a little corner of civilization on this train as it passes through these lonely lands.”

“Hm?” Yuuri lowered his newspaper slightly and looked at the man across from him. “How do you mean?” he felt obliged to ask.

“They know how to make a proper cup of tea.” He raised the cup toward Yuuri, as if in a toast, and took a sip. “Delightful.”

Yuuri took a closer look at him now. He was tall and reedy; Yuuri put him in his late 50s, with striking hair: auburn with streaks of white, like fire and ice, and a full beard. He wore a brown suit that was somewhat rumpled, with a bowler hat. And he had keen blue eyes that were almost reminiscent of another pair Yuuri had once known well. That last detail was disconcerting.

He was tempted for a moment to try to be friendlier and enter into a conversation. After all, he knew he’d promised himself years back that he would try to open up to people more. But that was easier said than done, when his natural inclination was always to hide – himself, his thoughts and feelings, his secrets. And he would hardly have anything in common with a guy like this, that much was obvious. The best approach, he decided, was probably to be personable without encouraging long interactions.

“I like coffee,” he said.

“Is that the preferred drink where you come from?”

“Um, well I guess that would be whiskey,” he said with a chuckle, and the man laughed as well. “But if you’re talking non-medicinal, then yeah, I suppose so.”

“May I ask where that is – where you come from?”

“Wyoming.”

“I suppose you’re a…cowboy out there?” He gestured. “Your clothes.”

Yuuri fingered his vest. His dress sense had never changed, even when he’d taken over the Star and Bar. Maybe it had been a reaction against Hank Taylor, who always wore impressive suits when traveling on ranch business, and would have splashed out the money to ride in a palatial Pullman car rather than a second-class one like this. But Yuuri felt it was more true to himself to dress in the usual woolen pants, checked flannel shirt and tan vest. He wore his boots and black Stetson with no self-consciousness, not minding the fact that his appearance instantly told everyone where he was from and what he did, in the sense that he belonged to the west and worked on a farm or a ranch. That was nothing to be ashamed of, even in a city like Chicago. And he did occasionally wear his jeans, though they were still tight and rather uncomfortable. But the thrill had gone out of it, and they usually remained folded up in a drawer.

“That’s right,” Yuuri said. “I own a ranch. I’ve been doing some business in Chicago.”

“I teach at a boys’ boarding school there. I’m changing trains in Omaha and going down to Lincoln to see a relative. Well actually, a relative of my late wife’s. It’s her brother. He used to live with us in Chicago.”

 _Oh god_ , Yuuri thought drearily. _This is why he sat across from me even though there are empty seats all over the car. He wants me to be a captive audience for hours while he tells me his life story._ “It’s a long way to Omaha,” was all he could think to say.

“Indeed.” He paused. “Sometimes, I think, it helps to pass the time when there’s someone to talk to, and you looked like a pleasant sort of chap. But don’t mind me if you’d rather not.” He drank more of his tea. “I don’t mean to be a nuisance.”

“It’s OK. I just…well, maybe I’ll have a nap for a while.” _Even though it’s ten in the morning, and I’ll be traveling on a sleeper later on, and it would really be nice to be able to sleep then too, which means not sleeping through this journey. Hell._

“Please, carry on. But I may as well introduce myself. I’m Arthur Blessington.” He held out a hand, which Yuuri looked at and then took.

“Yuuri Katsuki…pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise. Well, my good fellow, you get some shuteye, and I’ll go have a wander. Perhaps I’ll go to the observation car for a while. The weather is fine, and it’s a lovely view out there.”

Yuuri nodded, folded his paper, leaned back and closed his eyes, and eventually fell into a light doze. At some point he was aware of Arthur returning to his seat. The train rumbled across points, whistled, stopped at stations, stopped to take on water. The soothing movements of the car when it rocked back and forth helped Yuuri to nod back off after each interruption, but by noon he had to concede that he was not going to be able to sleep another wink, at which point he sat up and looked out the window. It wasn’t at all obvious that they’d gone anywhere, as the landscape was the same: farms, rolling hills, and woods.

Arthur suggested they grab a bite to eat from the buffet car, and this time Yuuri agreed. They bought sandwiches and fruit drinks, which they brought with them back to the passenger car and ate, Arthur drinking another cup of tea as well. Making small talk to be polite, Yuuri asked him where he was originally from, and Arthur told him he’d grown up in a village in the middle of England called Bakewell. As he told Yuuri about what it had been like, and how it was different from Chicago and presumably Wyoming, Yuuri found himself becoming genuinely interested. It wasn’t surprising that this man was a teacher; he had a way of compelling his listener’s attention, and telling a good story. He said he’d been happiest roaming the moors in the Peak, which didn’t sound so very different from Yuuri’s own love of the mountains.

“But enough about me,” Arthur eventually concluded. They’d finished their meal some time ago and had been sipping at their drinks. “What I’d like to know, if you don’t mind my asking, is what a Japanese man is doing as a cowboy – actually, you said you own a ranch, correct?”

“Yeah, well, there’s no mystery there. My parents died when I was seven and I was adopted by some ranchers. They, um, raised me to inherit the ranch.” He saw no reason to go into details about how the ranch he owned now had nothing to do with them, apart from the fact that it had been bought with the money his mother had given him.

“So what was it like, growing up on a ranch?”

Yuuri just looked at him. “Do you honestly want to hear all this, or are you just passing the time?”

Arthur laughed. “Maybe a bit of both. Please, don’t feel obliged to tell me anything you don’t wish to. I don’t mean to pry.”

This guy could kill you with politeness, Yuuri thought in amusement. Giving in, he told him about growing up at the Rafter T, about working on the ranch, learning about horses, attending a one-room schoolhouse with Phichit. The mountains. Blizzards, floods, heatwaves, tornadoes. He even found himself saying a bit about his Quaker mother and domineering father, both of whom had mapped his future out for him – wife, family, ranch boss. Then it struck him, though it should have been obvious…he’d gone ahead and done those things, as if following the route of that old map, albeit in another place, though not far away. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. How had he fallen back into that plan after everything with Victor, and everything they’d intended to do? It was as if he’d never been part of Yuuri’s life at all. And that was…disturbing.

“Mr. Katsuki?”

Yuuri had stopped talking, and his eyes had drifted vacantly over to the window. He snapped back to attention and cleared his throat. “Uh, just Yuuri, please. I’m…I’m sorry. Digging around in old memories, it…well, it can be a little unsettling.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t. It’s…just me, thinking. I do too much of that.” He felt in need of a break. “Maybe I’ll go check out that observation car for a while, if that’s OK.”

“By all means. If it looks like we’re making progress – if the hills change color or the cows in the fields are a different breed, you will let me know, I trust?”

Yuuri huffed a laugh. “Actually, I think we’re into the cornfields now. And that’s going to go on for a long, long time.” 

***

Having finished reading everything of interest, and plenty that wasn’t, in his newspaper, Yuuri had bought a copy of _Harper’s Weekly_ along with a cup of coffee from the buffet car. Arthur sat reading a book. The time, and the cornfields, passed by. Mid-afternoon, Yuuri felt a need to get up and stretch his legs. He put his magazine down and wandered to the buffet car again.

Funny, he thought, that Arthur had chosen him to sit with. Yuuri knew he’d been poor company. They’d shared childhood stories for less than an hour, if that, while partaking of unremarkable food and drink. Arthur seemed to have accepted a while back that Yuuri really only wanted to get to the station so that he could board his next train, and they’d been reading in silence for some time. Feeling stricken with a sudden sense of guilt about this – after all, he seemed like a nice man – Yuuri bought two cups of tea and some gingerbread snaps, and took them back to the passenger car.

“I, um, thought you might like this,” he said, offering Arthur one of the cups, with the cookies balanced on the saucer.

Arthur put down the book he was reading and looked up, smiling in surprise. “That’s very kind of you, thank you. What do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Yuuri sat down and sniffed at the steam rising from his drink. “I’ve, ah, never had a cup of hot tea before. Not with milk and sugar in it. That’s what you’ve been drinking, isn’t it? I hope I got it right.”

Arthur took a sip. “Spot on, my dear chap. That’s just the ticket.” He picked up one of the ginger snaps and dunked it. It looked revolting, but Yuuri tried doing the same, and found it wasn’t actually too bad. The cookie half-disintegrated in the tea and the rest of the way in his mouth.

“This is what they do in England, is it?” he asked.

“More or less. It’s the perfect time of day for tea, as well.”

“How long have you been here in the States?”

“Oh…quite some time now. I came over as a young man. You wouldn’t know it, I expect – everyone tells me I still sound English.”

“You do.”

“Ah, well. This leopard won’t be changing his spots.” He sipped his tea and dunked his second cookie.

“You mind me asking what brought you over here?”

“Not at all. My father was a solicitor, and an old school friend of his had moved to Chicago some years back. He invited us to come and visit one summer, so we all went on a family trip to the city. I was in my early twenties at the time, working as a schoolmaster. That was what brought me here.” His clear eyes suddenly danced with an inner spark. “What _kept_ me here was love.”

“Oh?” Yuuri smiled.

“I fell in love with Carrie, the daughter of my father’s friend. It was quite a whirlwind of an experience, I can tell you; once we realized how we felt about each other, there wasn’t much time left for me to make a decision before I had to return to England and start teaching the autumn term. I knew that if I left, it was unlikely that I would ever come back – the time and the expense, you know. And we’d been together such a short while.”

The years seemed to have fallen away from him as he talked, and Yuuri got a sense of the fun-loving, adventurous young man he might once have been. “So you took the plunge,” he stated, his lips still curved in a grin.

“Oh yes,” Arthur said with relish. “Never regretted it for a moment, old chap.” He went on to talk about moving in with her family and finding the teaching job at the boarding school. Eventually they bought a place of their own, with his brother-in-law living with them for several years before he got a job in Nebraska and moved away. They’d never had children, but Arthur had been content working with the boys in his care; there was never a dull day with them, and he figured they kept him in touch with his own youth, even though you couldn’t see it on him anymore. He’d lived many happy years in this way, but would soon be expected to retire, and he wasn’t sure what he would do then. Teaching had been his life. Carrie had died several years ago, and his brother-in-law in Lincoln was ill and not expected to hang on for much longer, which was why he was taking personal time now at what would have been the start of the school year to pay him one last visit.

It seemed a shame, Yuuri thought, for this man’s life to be marked with loss and uncertainty now after he’d enjoyed such contentment for so long. He wasn’t sure what to say, but his heart went out to him. “Have you ever thought about getting married again?” he finally ventured.

Arthur put his empty cup and saucer down on the bench next to his hat and gazed levelly at Yuuri. “Thought about it, yes. Would I do it?” He paused. “No, I don’t think so. At least, I think it’s highly unlikely. We were together for over twenty-five years, and I loved her dearly.” He gave a small laugh. “Enough to cross continents. I think that if I did meet someone else, I’d spend too much time comparing and deciding she didn’t measure up. I don’t honestly see how anyone could. She was one in a million, as they say.” He was giving Yuuri a bland little grin, but the sadness behind it was plain to see. Yuuri felt a jolt in his own heart.

“That makes sense,” was all he could think of. He took his own hat off and put it down beside him, ruffling his hair and sighing.

“It’s not for me to say,” Arthur spoke after a long pause, “but you strike me as being a bit…troubled by something. I imagine life out in the west isn’t easy.”

“Well, it’s like anywhere. Some people have got it good, some don’t. Most of them don’t, I’d say. But I keep telling myself how lucky I am.”   

“I’d like to hear about it, if it’s a story you’d like to tell.”

Yuuri laughed quietly. “I don’t want to sit here and bore you.”

“We have plenty of time. I don’t suppose either of us is going anywhere, do you? For my part, I would find it more interesting than delving back into my book, I’m sure. It’s rather dry stuff, after all.”

Yuuri stared at him. Arthur just looked at him mildly, blinking his blue eyes, and Yuuri was again struck by how like Victor’s they were. He got the odd sense that time was being held in suspension, and the two of them were no longer on a train, but _out_ of it, somewhere ethereal. And something in him, something that had been lodged deep for a long time, shifted.

He mentally went back to his parents being killed on the stagecoach and started his narrative there. How he’d had strange reactions to seeing the vehicles ever since. How no one could locate anyone else he was related to, and no one wanted to adopt him because he was Japanese, so the Taylors took him in. How the years had passed, and it seemed clear what the future held for him, like a well-worn path. And then he’d met Victor. Yuuri described seeing him for the first time in the Wagon Wheel, that sense of being struck speechless by otherworldly beauty that he would never forget no matter how long he lived. The apprenticeship, trick riding, ballet, gymnastics, rodeos. He tried not to burden Arthur with a flood of too many details, but he felt warm inside, like a bear awakening from hibernation as his mind drifted back to those days. He’d never told anyone about these things since he’d fled Larkspur, and he was filled with a sense of how important and precious they actually were to him. He never would have dreamed it would be possible to forget that.

Arthur had appeared riveted as Yuuri spoke, and he thought it would be some very fine acting that could fake such interest. He mostly responded with comments like “Is that so?” or “I see”, but otherwise seemed content for Yuuri to carry on. He asked for more details about the trick riding, and he wanted to hear all about Clarissa. He knew what ballet was, as most people from that part of the world seemed to, and said it was a shame Yuuri couldn’t demonstrate some. Yuuri’s heart sank when he thought about how long it had been since he’d practiced. He would probably injure himself anyway if he tried to do it again.

He talked about training for the Larkspur rodeo with Victor, and how they’d decided to perform together. The beautiful costumes they’d worn – he still had his stashed in a chest, thanks to his friends having packed everything he’d owned on Biscuit before he’d gone. Learning all those moves together, to the river of notes from the violin. His heart swelled, and he felt tears prick his eyes.

“He sounds an extraordinary fellow,” Arthur said. “Are you still working with him now?” He leaned forward slightly, looking at Yuuri with curiosity and a bit of alarm. “I can see this is upsetting you. Did…something happen?”

Yuuri swallowed in a dry throat. “He died. I…I loved him more than I ever loved anybody in my life, with everything I had…and he…he died.” A tear escaped down his cheek. It was followed by a steady stream of more, and quiet sobs shook his frame. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down, unable to stop, feeling ashamed of his display in front of Arthur.

“Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear – I do apologize. I…I had no idea…” Arthur stood, looking awkward, as if he was unsure whether it would be OK to put a comforting hand on Yuuri. “Look, my dear fellow, there’s one thing we English do at a time like this that always seems to help. I’ll be back in a moment, all right?”

Yuuri nodded, unsure what he meant, but appreciating the time to try to pull himself together. He took several deep breaths and wiped at his face with his sleeves, then pulled a handkerchief from a vest pocket and blew his nose. Five years. Five years it had been, and he was no closer to being on the other side of the pain. Perhaps he never would be, and it would sit inside of him for the rest of his life, prickling and stabbing and aching. The price he paid for a love that had burned so brightly, but for so short a time.

It occurred to him, then, that he’d just told this secret, one he’d never confided to anyone since he’d left Larkspur, to Arthur. A stranger on a train. Well, maybe that was why it had seemed safe to do so. They’d part ways in a few hours and never see each other again, so if Arthur condemned him for it, what did it matter? Though his reaction hadn’t indicated as much. Yuuri wondered what he’d gone to do.

He soon found out. “Tea,” he laughed as Arthur held a cup and saucer out to him, which he accepted as his companion sat down with his own. Yuuri wondered for a moment whether that was what the English had running through their veins, if they all drank as much of it as he did. But he gave Arthur a little smile, thanked him, and sipped.

“A cuppa always puts you right. So they say where I come from,” Arthur commented as he drank his. “Even after all this time, I find it comforting somehow.”

Yuuri inhaled the steam rising from his drink and took in the warmth through his hands. He had to admit Arthur was right. Though meeting with kindness after having burst into a crying fit was comforting too. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Please don’t be.” He gave Yuuri a smile. “One should never apologize for having been in love.”

“He was a man,” Yuuri said, still unsure of Arthur’s feelings about this.

“So you said.” He sipped his tea. “But if you were expecting me to lecture you, or quote the Bible, let me tell you – after all these years of teaching boys, you are not the first person to have told me he had these feelings. Far be it from me to pass judgment. I’m just…very sorry for your loss. If you don’t want to tell me any more, I understand. But I have to say, I’m intrigued, if you’re still of a mind to talk.”

Yuuri stared at his tea, then sighed. He’d already begun; he might as well carry on. He told Arthur that he and Victor had been close to working out plans for a future together when they’d been caught and taken away, he to his father’s house and Victor to jail. And what happened afterward – the lynch mob, the stampede, the gunshots, Victor’s death. It wasn’t as difficult to relate as he thought it would be. No, what was difficult was thinking too hard about what he’d actually shared with Victor and then lost. Events in themselves were simply facts.

Arthur’s eyes opened wider and wider as he listened. His comments were more colorful now – “Dear lord,” “Oh my word,” and so on. He shook his head and looked at Yuuri with something approaching awe, but it was mixed with sympathy too, especially when Yuuri told him how Victor had died. He mentioned the tracker dog and his flight from Larkspur, though he didn’t go into detail about it. But he could still see it all in his mind.

At first he thought he’d made a clean getaway; either they’d decided not to pursue him with the tracker dog after all, or he’d eluded them. He’d stopped by a creek to drink, refill his canteen, and take in whatever sustenance he could stomach from the rations that had kindly been packed for him. But when he heard the unmistakable sound of barking in the distance behind him, getting nearer, his heart had leaped in fear. Of course it could be any dog belonging to anyone out here, but he needed to be sure. He rode Biscuit to the top of a nearby hill and took out his field glasses, and eventually spied what he’d been afraid of – six men on horseback with a dog running back and forth in front of them. That was it, then – Phichit had been right, and they were on his trail. He would have to flee, and keep fleeing for days.

Days blended into nights and back into days as he worked his way north along the foothills of the mountains. He pressed Biscuit as far and as fast as she would go. He passed through thick brush and across streams, hoping that if his scent wasn’t lost, at least the obstacles would slow his pursuers down. Using his knowledge of towns north of Larkspur, he traveled through those on occasion, looking for the most noisome areas to pass through – corrals, creosote yards, trash heaps, anything that might confuse the tracker dog. There would have been plenty of opportunities for him to stop somewhere and purchase a gun, but it was a while before he trusted himself to carry one again, for numerous reasons.

Instead, he continued to work his way north, sent up prayers to whatever power might receive them, and told himself to keep going for Victor. Physically he was able to make use of his good stamina, but emotionally it became the most draining experience he’d ever had. “When I wasn’t putting all my thought and energy into being focused on escape, I was either feeling nothing at all inside, or crying like I’d never be able to stop,” he told Arthur. “Sometimes I’d look at the trees and the mountains and the clouds, and wonder what the hell the point of it all was when Victor wasn’t around anymore. But I’d promised myself I’d keep going, so I just gritted my teeth, you know, and that’s what I did.”

While he spoke, he sometimes found Arthur’s eyes, or looked down at his hands folded in his lap, or was mesmerized by something outside the window as the train passed by. He felt no compunction or shame about telling Arthur these things, though his boldness in so doing surprised him; he’d even found it difficult to open up to Victor about very personal things at times. If was as if the first tears he’d shed had cleared the way for everything else to come out, and it had just been waiting for the opportunity. And Arthur was an attentive listener, never shifting his eyes around or fidgeting or doing anything else that indicated he might be bored with Yuuri’s story.

Mercifully, there had been no further sign of the six men or the dog, he continued. He thought he’d been traveling for about a week – he’d lost track of the days – when he arrived in Clearwater. It reminded him of Larkspur – a sizeable town, maybe a good place to stay for a while, or even permanently. “I don’t remember much about things at first. I found a boarding house to stay in and kind of hung around the town. There wasn’t a lot to do, and I started drinking more than I ought to. But I’d been there before – I couldn’t see it leading anyplace good; and I kept asking myself what Victor would want me to do.”

“Sounds like Victor was still looking after you, in a way,” Arthur said.

Yuuri gave him a small grin. “I never thought of it like that before. Yeah, I guess so.” He went on to explain that he’d ended up buying a rundown ranch nearby, though the owner had been reluctant to sell at first – even though he needed the cash – because he wasn’t fond of the idea of a Japanese man taking over his establishment. But money talked, as it always did, and they soon settled on a price. Yuuri had focused his energy on fixing the place up. “The Star and Bar, it’s called,” he said.

Arthur chuckled. “I like it. Sounds like a pub.”

“Well, that was the original name, and I liked it too, so I kept it.”

“And do you run it by yourself?”

“My wife helps me.”

“You have a wife,” Arthur echoed, unable to conceal his surprise.

“Yeah. Her name’s May. She’s got a good head for business. And she’s warm, and kind, and pretty besides. We met at a dance; we were both lonely, I guess, and we’ve been good together. She, um, doesn’t know about Victor, though.” Had Arthur’s eyes taken on a piercing look, or was it his imagination? “If I was a widower, I wouldn’t have hesitated to tell her about my late wife. But even though I feel like one, how do I tell someone about…well, there isn’t even a name for it, is there? ‘Boyfriend’ doesn’t sound right to me. There aren’t many people I’ve told about that, in fact. You won’t let word get out, will you?” He huffed a small laugh.

Arthur smiled back. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“That’s good to know.” He paused. “We’ve got a little girl; she’s almost three. Her name’s Taki. May couldn’t have any more kids after the birth she went through, but Taki’s wonderful. And the ranch is doing well. I still do a little trick riding now and then; it even comes in useful sometimes. Taki loves watching me, though her mom isn’t so keen. Thinks I’m going to break my neck or something.” He let out another quiet laugh.

“Well, my good man, it sounds like you’ve landed on both feet after all the extraordinary things that happened to you. You’re leading quite a normal life now, from the look of it. Are you pleased?”

“Uh…that’s a funny question. Pleased? I guess I’m pleased to be considered ‘normal’ after all that, yeah. Less to worry about, I suppose.”

Arthur gazed at him for a moment. “You might consider this a very personal question, and please don’t answer if it makes you uncomfortable; but after listening to what you’ve told me, I wanted to ask – did you give yourself time to feel sad about losing Victor before moving on with things? Buying the ranch and doing it up, getting married, starting a family – it all seems to have happened quite quickly for you.”

Yuuri raised his eyebrows. His instinctive reaction would have been one of indignation, but Arthur knew what it was like to lose someone you loved. So instead he thought about what he’d said. “But that’s the point, isn’t it – to move on? We’re still here, after they go wherever they…after they…once they’re gone. We’ve got to make the most of it, don’t we? What’s the good of being idle and in constant pain?” He swallowed.

Arthur leaned forward. “Would you like to know what I did when my Carrie died?” He paused while Yuuri returned his gaze with equal intensity and gave him a quiet nod. “I cried. And cried some more. So many tears, you could fill a lake with them. But I also talked about her to others who would listen. It’s true that some people are uncomfortable around a grieving person – around anything to do with death, full stop. But there are others who just want to help, though they don’t always know how. You can show them how. Ask them to listen while you tell them about everything you treasured about the person you lost – share memories with them if they knew them as well; and let them give you a shoulder to cry on.” He paused again. “Have you kept in touch with any people from…Larkspur, was it?”

Yuuri shuddered. He thought about what it might have been like after Victor’s death if he’d been able to deal with it that way; if there had been anybody around to help. “No. I wanted to put it all behind me and start over again. I…it was all just so much. I can’t go back there again anyway.”

“That must have made things terribly hard on you. And even with people to support you, it still hurts, Yuuri – it truly does. I had to admit it to myself, as well as to my friends and family. That grief becomes a part of you. I don’t think it ever goes away, not completely; but if you let it flow through you, like a river, it won’t get dammed up. Over time, it will be woven into the fabric of your life, along with many other things…Each person you love is different, and you never lose what they’ve given you. That relationship has permanently changed you, whether or not the person is still there. And if you try to shut yourself away from that, you’re denying the best of them that you had as well as the worst; denying that they ever touched your life.”

Yuuri stared at him with his lips slightly parted, his eyes bright with unshed tears, but also with awe. All he’d done since he’d lost Victor was think about how to escape the pain. He’d never considered embracing it in order to allow himself access to what they’d had together. It still sounded frightening, especially with no one at home to talk to, or who even knew. But maybe he could try to find the courage.

“Thank you…Arthur,” he whispered. “That…that’s a lot to think about, but it helps. And I’m sorry you’ve been through this too.”

“Loss is a natural part of life, my dear fellow. Though that doesn’t make it any easier to bear.” His smile was tinged with melancholy. “I rather believe people like you and I are lucky, in that we’ve had the chance to drink deeply from the well of human experience. To be so in love with someone…it’s worth the pain of losing them, in my opinion. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Yuuri smiled back and blinked the tears away. “Me either.” He was silent for a long moment, then checked his pocket watch. They had about an hour and a half before they were due in Omaha. “Look…would you like to go to the dining car with me? I can’t say I’m very hungry, but…we could have a glass of wine and a bite, maybe, if you feel like it. It would be on me.”

Arthur looked surprised. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly – ”

“I’d really like it if you did. We could talk more, if you want. About Carrie, or Victor, or where we live, or…anything. Might make a nice change from sitting here.” They each now had a couple of empty teacups on their benches, waiting to be collected. As Arthur still looked undecided, he added, “Please?”

Finally Arthur grinned and said, “Very well, if you _will_ insist.”

They spent the rest of their time there, sharing a bottle of wine and some crackers and cheese, plus more tea. Yuuri didn’t have the stomach for anything heavier, though he offered to buy Arthur a proper meal, which he cheerfully refused. Arthur told him about his favorite times with his late wife – vacations, get-togethers with family and friends, the funny little stories that accumulate when people know each other and live together. How they would poke fun at each other’s accents and sometimes peculiar use of words. The way her smile lit up a room and her laughter could lift the heaviest heart. In turn, Yuuri described Victor in more detail than he had before, recalling those incredible blue eyes, the way the sun shone on his hair and made it glow, the brush of pink across his cheeks, the muscles chiselled as finely as those of a Greek sculpture. How he said Yuuri’s name in his Russian accent, which had always sent a thrill through him. The pure sensuality that he lived and breathed. Yuuri didn’t want to get too personal and make Arthur feel uncomfortable, but it seemed wrong to talk about Victor without mentioning something that had been such a natural part of him. And then there were all the other things he was so very talented at, and the world was a poorer place for it all being gone. Yuuri couldn’t remember the last time he’d allowed himself to reminisce like this; he’d certainly never spoken to a soul about it. And instead of erupting into tears, he felt a mellow sadness inside that he found he could cope with, mixed with warmth and love and gladness. And then he wanted to cry _because_ he’d felt those things, and they were so welcome.

They were leaving the dining car as the train pulled into the Omaha station, and they stopped briefly in the passenger car to put their hats on and collect their baggage. Arthur had scribbled his name and address on a piece of notepaper that he’d given to Yuuri, inviting him to write if and when he wanted, and let him know how he was doing; and Yuuri had done the same.

Yuuri patted Arthur fondly on his arm, feeling awkward; there seemed to be no appropriate way to repay him or express how moved he felt by what they’d shared. Arthur gave him an understanding look and patted his own arm back.

“Cheerio, my good fellow,” he said. “That’s goodbye in Bakewell. I suppose they must say something rather more colorful in your neck of the woods.”

Yuuri gave him a half-smile, blinking back tears yet again. “’Til we meet again, pard,” he said quietly, giving his arm a squeeze before exiting the passenger car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s worth briefly noting that it was mostly first-class passengers who used the dining car, because a meal there could cost a day’s pay for an average laborer. This is why Yuuri and Arthur stick to sandwiches and tea and juice – until Yuuri is moved enough by his encounter with Arthur to offer to buy him a very nice meal. (Yuuri could probably afford to eat in the dining car, now that he owns a prosperous ranch, just like he might also have been able to stay in the grand new Pullman cars; but ostentatious luxuries like this don’t hold much attraction for him.)


	50. Chapter 50

He was home in time to attend Taki’s birthday celebrations, which were taking place the following day. Not that it was likely she’d remember such a shindig when she was older, but May wanted to throw one for her. She’d invited lots of friends from town and the surrounding ranches and farms, and Yuuri had told the ranch hands they were welcome but shouldn’t feel obliged to attend. He’d never developed a taste for big get-togethers, and May knew that; but they only hosted this kind of thing once in a while, and he was willing to put up with it, especially since all her family were on the east coast, so her friends were all the folk she had here. Besides, what better cause for celebration was there than his wonderful little girl?

He sat in his favorite chair, which was made of walnut and upholstered in red velvet, whittling by the light of an oil lamp. Having had more practice, he reckoned he wasn’t too bad at it now. Sometimes he even tried to be a little more artistic, for example by carving faces or scenes into the wood rather than fashioning the whole block into a shape. It was a relaxing thing to do at the end of a day out on the ranch, as long as he didn’t get too frustrated when whatever he was working on refused to turn out the way he wanted it to.

May was working in the kitchen; he could hear pots and pans clanging together, and the slosh of water in the basin. She’d been toiling in there all day to get enough food ready for tomorrow to feed an army, though plenty of guests had also assured them that they’d help out by bringing a dish too. The tantalizing aroma of cinnamon and apples gradually became too strong for Yuuri to ignore, and he took off his glasses, folded up the piece of leather that had caught his wood shavings, and followed his nose to the kitchen, where two apple pies were cooling on the counter. May was chopping vegetables, which she placed in large piles. She was wearing a mahogany-colored dress with the usual bodice that fitted her so flatteringly. It couldn’t be very comfortable to go around like that all day, Yuuri thought, but it was nice on the eye all the same. Her white apron was tied around her waist.

“It’s so quiet around here,” he said as he walked in. “Where’s Taki?”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, flashed a smile, then carried on chopping. “She’s staying with the Hendersons tonight, playing with Sally. You know, while we get things ready here for her party tomorrow, so it’s a surprise. They’ll be bringing her back later in the morning.”

Yuuri walked over and stood behind her, slipping his arms around her waist. “You’ve been working very hard today. Maybe it’s time you had a break.”

“I can’t, Yuuri. There’s so much to do.”

He leaned forward, gently moved aside her long tresses, kissed the sensitive part of her neck behind her ear, and felt her shiver. “Can’t it be left ’til the morning?” he whispered against her skin. “We’ve got the house to ourselves, no interruptions.”

She didn’t argue again.

***

Later in the night, May propped herself up against the headboard of the bed, straightening the straps of her nightgown on her shoulders. Yuuri had fallen asleep after they’d made love, though he always stayed awake long enough for a cuddle and a talk. But dreamland had eluded her tonight, so far. It was all the preparations for the party tomorrow that kept going through her head; she was mentally ticking off to-do lists and thinking about which ingredients she had and which ones she would have to get at the last minute if she could. She’d thought the party would be fun, but it turned out she’d maybe bitten off more than she could chew. It had been tempting to ask Yuuri to help her – she knew he could cook; but he was occupied with ranch business most days, and it wasn’t her place to ask him to do women’s work. Well, she’d just have to do what she could in the morning. She’d been honest when she’d told Yuuri she had a lot to do, but he was just so damn sexy and hard to resist when he was in that mood.

She turned her head and watched him with a faint smile as he dozed. He was nude, with the blanket pulled up to his waist, the low light from the bedside lamp playing over the planes of his chest and the curves of his muscles. Not only was he handsome, but sweet and kind as well, and she knew it was important to him to look after her and Taki. It made her feel safe, despite the lingering threat of rustlers. Often she thought how lucky she was to have met him.

Lucky, indeed, that he’d even attended that barn dance four years ago in the first place, because she’d quickly discovered he felt uncomfortable at large gatherings where he felt obliged to socialize; something they’d later had to compromise on, when May wanted to have guests at their house. It had been Steve, the previous foreman of the ranch, she’d later been told, who had lured Yuuri there with a promise that they could ignore most of the goings-on in favor of sampling a great selection of locally brewed beer. But neither aspect of the promise had really played out; Steve had wandered off to join the dancing, and Yuuri hadn’t been very impressed with the suds on offer either.    

He’d been sitting by himself on a bale of hay, his gaze shifting around the room blandly, when May had first caught sight of him. He was the handsomest man there by far. There was something compelling, even endearing, about him; maybe it was the way he looked slightly lost, as if he felt out of place or was drifting in a world of his own and wasn’t sure how to come back. Did being Japanese – she thought it was Japanese, anyway – have anything to do with it? Maybe it was that he looked as if he could do with someone to take care of him and give him some affection to light up those big brown eyes. There was also a poise about him, in the way he held himself, that was beautiful. There was no other way to describe it. May felt she simply had to get to know this mysterious man.  

Her determination to do so made her bolder than she otherwise would have been – she, the quiet spinster town schoolteacher. Contrary to usual convention, she’d approached him and asked him to dance, and he’d said yes. He seemed reluctant at first, but May coaxed small talk out of him and asked him for another dance, and then another. And that was when she realized that he was capable of moving with a grace she’d never seen anyone else possess. It was mesmerizing to watch him, and she felt clumsy by comparison, but he genuinely seemed to enjoy dancing with her just the same. And when he gave her that big smile, his cheeks pink from exertion, his eyes shining, she was lost. By the end of the night, having danced with no one else, and feeling swept off her feet, she thought she might just be in love. Yuuri Katsuki, he said his name was. It sounded special; exotic.

When he’d proposed after a courtship of just a few months, she hadn’t been in any doubt as to her answer, and they’d had a small and quiet wedding, as neither of them had family to invite. She’d come out west to escape her unpleasant situation in Boston, but she’d soon discovered how lonely it could be having to start all over again someplace new; and she’d been all too glad to find in Yuuri hope for a future that, at her age, she’d thought would be denied to her. She knew she would be expected to give up her teaching job upon marrying, but she intended to have children of her own; and helping her husband to run his ranch was a challenge that appealed. He respected her intelligence, and actively sought out her opinion on things, which she knew was an unusual situation between a man and a woman. And she loved it.

She had also been also delighted to discover that Yuuri wanted very much to be a father – not because he wanted a son to inherit the ranch, but simply because he liked children. Again, May thought that was unusual, though her experience of men was admittedly limited, and the ones she’d grown up with weren’t ideal for making comparisons. Once married, they’d wasted no time in trying to make this dream a reality, she recalled with a touch of amusement. It had felt fun and romantic at first, though she was thankful that Yuuri’s desires had dampened down a bit over time; she’d begun to fear she simply wouldn’t be able to carry on reciprocating so much. It was curious, at first, how sex seemed to be such an integral part of who he was, something he _needed_ ; and yet he’d given her the impression that he wasn’t quite sure what to do with her – no, that was too harsh. It was like he wasn’t sure what she wanted, and she’d had trouble working it out herself because she’d been saving herself for marriage, as anyone would have expected of her. She assumed they had both been virgins, and were learning together. They’d eventually discovered what each other liked, to an extent; and there was never such a one for sensual touches and whispers and kisses as her Yuuri.

Those things alone would be enough for her, she thought. Though they wouldn’t have produced their beautiful child. The birth had been a red agony that had unfortunately meant she would not be able to bear any more children, which had been very difficult for her to accept at first. But Yuuri didn’t seem to be upset that their daughter was destined to be an only child; in fact, he adored her. And that had helped. She was growing up to be as cute as a button and as sharp as a knife. And the ranch was doing well. Life was good.

Most of the time, anyway. She knew that Yuuri carried something heavy on his shoulders that he wouldn’t or couldn’t talk about. Sometimes he was weighed down by it, seemingly, for days. May lived in hope that one day he’d tell her about it. She’d often been tempted to ask, but before they’d gotten married he’d requested a solemn promise from her that she wouldn’t, and she’d agreed, albeit with misgivings. Where had he been and what had he done before he’d arrived here? It must be something he was embarrassed or ashamed of, because otherwise he would have told his own wife by now, surely? He’d explained about his parents dying in a stagecoach robbery, which was the cause of the nightmares that occasionally plagued him; but she didn’t know anything more than that he had been adopted afterward and raised by a couple on a ranch.

She often wondered, in particular, where he’d learned the trick horseback riding. She couldn’t help but have firm words with him about it. The degree of risk involved in what he was doing was plain to see, and she didn’t want the body of her husband delivered to her porch in a pine coffin, his neck broken. But she’d seen this kind of…energy, drive, recklessness, whatever you wanted to call it, in other horsemen before, and you’d take it out of them as soon as you’d take their last breath away. Which wasn’t as unlikely as they seemed to think.

All told, however, she thought herself a lucky woman. But if she wasn’t careful, she would end up getting little or no sleep tonight, and she had a party to host the next day. With a sigh, she took a last glance at her slumbering husband, got out of bed, pulled on her robe, lit a candle, and made her way to the kitchen, where she got a glass of warm milk. _Everything will be just fine, you’ll see_ , she told herself as she sipped at it in the quiet and dark of the night.

***

“What was that again?” Yuuri asked Sergio. They were sitting on wooden chairs, facing each other, in the living room. Sergio, an Italian ranch hand about Yuuri’s age, had a lacquered cherrywood guitar on his lap, on which had been painted curling vines with red and white flowers; there were dotted patterns adorning the sides, and little spirals and curlicues had been etched and filled in with sepia. Yuuri felt his own guitar was an embarrassing comparison; but as he had only just begun with the instrument, a plain old second-hand one that he’d bought in town seemed to fit the bill, for now at least. He’d heard Sergio playing captivating melodies in the bunkhouse on occasion and had said to him that he’d like to learn, and finally Sergio had accepted that Yuuri was serious, and offered to teach him when they both had some free time.

Sergio made it look easier than it was. The strings on the fretboard cut into Yuuri’s fingers, and he wished his were longer so that it was easier to search out the notes. Not that he knew many yet. And this wasn’t the best time for a lesson, either. The room was full of party guests, who filled all of the seats available, and filed in and out of the front door onto the porch, or kept visiting the kitchen, where May was still spending most of her time. This was, however, the reason why Yuuri had suggested picking up the guitars in the first place; after spending a couple of hours being friendly with the neighbors and May’s friends, he already felt exhausted from it all, and this seemed like a good way to try to recharge without isolating himself and appearing rude.

“ _Che?_ ” Sergio said, looking up at him after idly strumming a couple of chords. “What? It’s hard to hear.” He turned to address the little crowd in the room. “ _Silenzio!_ You be quiet now, please – we’re having a lesson here.” He smiled at them and, after a chorus of laughs, the two of them could hear each other again.

“We were trying to tune these things,” Yuuri said. “I couldn’t remember what fret you said I had to put my finger on.”

“Ah. The fifth one. You see, like so.” He demonstrated.

Yuuri plucked two strings together and listened to the eerie ring that emerged, vibrating through him in gentle waves. “Almost but not quite, I think,” he said, turning the appropriate peg on the board.

“That’s right, _signore_. You’re getting it.” He picked a little melody out as he waited for Yuuri to finish his tuning. When Yuuri heard the simple notes of “Happy Birthday”, he looked up and saw Taki approaching them in her frilly white party dress. She laughed when she saw Sergio.

“I know that song,” she said.

“I play it for you, _passerotto_.” He said to Yuuri, “That means ‘little sparrow’. She is learning to fly.”

Yuuri laughed and held his right arm out to her, and she ran over and let him wrap it around her. “She’s going to learn how to ride a horse first – aren’t you?”

“I can already ride a pony, Daddy,” she said, as if disappointed that he had forgotten.

“Can you remember the chords I taught you for ‘Oh Susanna’?” Sergio asked him.

“Um…I think so. There were three of them, weren’t there?” He moved his fingers over the frets, recalling the positioning, and feeling like he had a very, very long way indeed to go if he were to get the hang of playing an instrument.

“ ‘A’ major,” Sergio said. “You sing along with me, yes?” He smiled down at Taki. You know this song? Oh I come from Alabama with a banjo on my knee…”

They were both singing, Taki making up in enthusiasm for what she lacked in accuracy, when May entered the room, smiling. When the song was finished, she said to Yuuri, “You’ll keep her happy for hours if you learn how to play all her favorite songs on that thing.”

“I’d be glad to, though I hope one day I’ll be able to play more than nursery rhymes and folk songs.”

“With me as your teacher, you’ll be a very good player,” Sergio said. He looked at May. “This guy, he practice, he learn.”

“Well he’s the most determined person I’ve ever met when he puts his mind to something, so I don’t doubt it.” She reached for Taki’s hand. “I think Daddy’s a little busy right now, honey.” As Taki started to protest, she added, “Do you want to have a peek at your birthday cake?”

That did the job, and soon the two of them had disappeared into the kitchen. “ _Che bella bambina_ ,” Sergio laughed. “She is gorgeous.”

“Which one?”

“Ah, both – you are a lucky man.”

Yuuri grinned and plucked an arpeggio. It sounded nice. “Show me some more while we’re here, won’t you? All I know so far is ‘Oh Susanna’ and ‘Red River Valley’, and I’ll get sick of ’em pretty fast after the twentieth time or so.”

“Hmm…Wait – I know just the thing.” He started to strum some notes. “This one we used to sing when we visited Paris.” He played a lilting tune while he sang in French. Yuuri listened, enraptured, while he felt himself transported to Christmas Eve in Larkspur, Clarissa and Victor speaking words in that beautiful language while they danced.

When Sergio finished, he looked at Yuuri curiously. “You like it?”

“Sure. I didn’t know you’d been to Paris.”

“I went a few times when I was younger, before I left _Italia_ to come here. What I play for you is a drinking song called ‘ _Il est des nôtres_ ’.” He scooted forward, gave Yuuri a conspiratorial look, and quietly translated the lyrics for him. Yuuri guffawed; then his face fell and a wistful look entered his eyes.

“I knew a lady from Paris once.” He decided it best not to elaborate.

Sergio told him he’d done his fair share of drinking there, but had also gone to the theater and ballet. Those were in better days of course, when he had the money to do such things. Yuuri could see that this man had a story to tell about himself, and decided to try to tease it out of him as they continued to meet for lessons. He asked Sergio about the ballet he’d seen, as he plucked absent-mindedly at the strings of his guitar, and again found himself lost in images of people who were dear to him dancing gracefully, and joining them.

“You know, I think I’m going to take a break for a while,” Yuuri said, picking up his guitar and standing. He propped it in a corner of the room. “Next time we do this, you’ll have to teach me how to play that song. But I’d better not do it in front of May. I don’t think she’d like it much.”

“ _Certamente_ – I will look forward to it.”

“You should get some of her apple pie, if there’s any left. It’s the best.”

“I agree, _signore_. I made sure I had the first slice.”

Yuuri smiled, said goodbye, and walked out onto the porch. There was a pavilion on the lawn with a bewildering variety of foods, and guests milled around inside. The notes of a fiddler drifted on the afternoon breeze. No one was dancing right now, but perhaps later, once the alcohol flowed a bit more, they’d want to. Maybe, Yuuri thought, he would too. Or maybe not. He leaned against a post, positioning it between himself and the sightline of the pavilion so as not to attract anyone over to talk to him. Alone here, for a brief moment at least, he looked at the vista of the purple mountains in the distance in front of him.

He had a flashback of a daydream in which he and Victor walked the streets of Paris, as Yuuri imagined them, hand in hand. He’d eventually bought an English translation of _Les Misérables_ , which had gone some way to tearing apart the gauzy tissue of that particular fantasy, but the romantic essence of it had remained with him. A place in the world where two men could love each other openly…rather than being stalked by a lynch mob. Why hadn’t he and Victor seriously discussed it, after all? Both of them had money; they could have traveled there and set themselves up initially. Surely they could have found something to do to make a living. Victor even spoke the language, for fuck’s sake.

Yuuri suddenly snapped back to the present as the fiddler in the gazebo started playing a loud, lively version of “The Turkey in the Straw”. It wasn’t unusual for him to get lost in his thoughts, but this time he’d felt something new. Anger? Frustration? Was it directed at Victor, because he’d left Yuuri here to work out what to do with the rest of his life? Or something else? God, he hated get-togethers like this. He needed to be alone.  

He passed Patrick on the way to the stable. “Everything OK?” he asked Yuuri. “I thought you’d be at the party.”

“I was. I need to leave for a while.”

“Them rustlers ain’t back, are they?”

“No. Far as I’m aware, no one’s caught sight of ’em since…you know. I figure we must have scared ’em off for now. We can start fencing in the range soon, and that should make it safer out there.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Yuuri shot a friendly glare at him. “Yuuri. I can’t get used to this, you know.”

“Well we don’t stand on ceremony here, Pat. I’m just plain Yuuri, and just plain Yuuri is fine to call me.” He lifted the brim of his hat in farewell. “Go get something nice to eat. May’s busted a gut making sure there’s a feast over there.”

He left Patrick and walked the rest of the way across the ranch grounds to the stable, the fiddle notes fading to silence behind him. It looked like all of the ranch hands had gone to the party; there was no one else around. He passed through the corral and went inside, his nostrils filling with the scents of leather, manure, hay and linseed oil. Whinnies and neighs greeted him as his eyes adjusted to the dim interior. When he reached Biscuit’s stall, he simply leaned on the gate and closed his eyes as tears rolled down his cheeks.

 _I don’t even know why I’m crying. What is it now?_ Sometimes a mood like this would come upon him, seemingly out of nowhere, and he’d spend time alone until he felt healed enough to blend back into the day-to-day flow of things. It felt to him like thinking about Paris had triggered it this time. Well, that and the party that he didn’t want to be a part of. Why he and May couldn’t have simply done something nice for Taki’s birthday on their own was anybody’s guess. That was what he would have preferred. But he couldn’t just think of himself all the time. This was obviously important to May.

He entered Biscuit’s stall, greeted her and stroked her neck, then saddled her up. _Am I taking her somewhere? I guess so._ On second thought, he removed her saddle and led her out of the stable, then sprung up on her bareback and guided her away from the ranch and onto the range, where the parched gold and green hills and plains spread out before them. There, Yuuri urged Biscuit into a gallop, and he felt the old exhilaration flood through him as they flew along with the mountains on their left, the breeze tugging underneath his Stetson. He smiled and his eyes lit up as he curled his fingers into his horse’s mane and felt her powerful muscles flex underneath him. They jumped over a stream and zigzagged around Apache plumes and mountain mahoganies. Eventually Yuuri had Biscuit stop next to a creek with some lush grass she could graze on. The warm sun shone down, and he sat on a rock next to the water and listened to the musical sound of it splashing and bubbling over the rocks in its bed.

The tears were gone now, but the leaden weight inside of him remained, though riding out here and sitting by the creek had lessened its hold on him. Sometimes in places like this, he could imagine the essence of Victor in the trees, the grass, the water, the mountains…hear his voice on the wind. Yuuri didn’t believe death was the end of a person. Some part of them survived – a soul, or whatever you decided to call it. He wanted to believe that Victor was still with him. But god, how Yuuri wished he was _physically_ here. Ever since his conversation on the train with Arthur, he’d been trying to follow the advice he’d been given, and allow the pain to come so that he could savor his memories. But it was causing an acute yearning for things that could no longer be. That was a problem, though maybe in time the feelings would fade, if he allowed them to do what they would, and ebb and flow like a tide.

He wondered why he couldn’t feel happier. He had everything he used to want. A family. A ranch that was doing well. Familiarity and comfort. No more sneaking around behind people’s backs. No more fear of being discovered. Because he had chosen a woman as a lover, he’d been allowed to marry her, and sex was seen as normal in such a relationship, rather than some kind of perversion or sin. So many of the specters that had haunted him in the past had now fled. And yet if he was honest with himself, he was far from content. Well, maybe that was just how things were for most people, and how they were destined to be for him. Nothing was perfect.

He sat for a while, listening to the ripping noises of Biscuit’s teeth as she cropped the grass beside him, and watching the life around him. Small silver fish darting down the stream. Bumblebees gathering pollen from wildflowers. A squirrel racing up a tree, its claws clacking against the wood. The squeals of prairie dogs. A herd of deer passing by. He lay back and dozed for a short time with the sun on his face. Then, deciding he’d be missed and lectured if he stayed away much longer, he stood, remounted Biscuit, and led her back to the ranch at a leisurely pace.

He looked up at the puffy white clouds hanging over the jagged peaks that were now to his right as he traveled. If a spirit in the sky traced a finger down the spine of the mountains in a southerly direction, it would eventually light on a little place called Larkspur. Had the earth there claimed Victor? Were Phichit, Chris, Zach and Jeff still working on the ranches? Were the Taylors and the Connors living out their days as they always had, with the rhythms of the seasons?

Yuuri wondered what he himself had achieved by coming here. Was his life now set in its own unvarying rhythms too? And why was that such a frightening thought?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Il Est Des Nôtres](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oxJkIY9jmKQ) – a traditional French drinking song, usually sung at the end of a meal to foster the consumption of wine. (I can _so_ see a drunk Yuuri and Victor doing this together.)
> 
> Ami [nom de l’ami] lève ton verre, _Brother [name of the friend / "brother"] raise your glass_  
>  et surtout, ne le renverse pas _And above all, don't spill anything_  
>  et porte le _and put it_  
>  du frontibus _from your forehead_  
>  au nasibus _to your nose_  
>  au mentibus _to your chin_  
>  au ventribus _to your belly_  
>  au sexibus _to your sex_  
>  à l’aquarium _to your mouth_  
>  et glou et glou et glou _and gulp and gulp and gulp_
> 
> Il est des nôtres _He’s one of us_  
>  Il a bu son verre comme les autres _He has drunk his glass like the others_  
>  C’est un ivrogne _He’s a drunkard_  
>  Ca se voit rien qu’à sa trogne _you can see it from his face_


	51. Chapter 51

“It’s not far, May. She’ll be OK.”

“She’s so young, Yuuri. I don’t know…I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

It was Saturday morning and they were in the kitchen, preparing a stew for dinner. Yuuri had insisted on helping to peel the vegetables. He had a half-peeled potato in one hand and the peeler in the other. Taki was tugging on her mother’s dress insistently, having gotten the gist of the conversation and firmly siding with her father.

“Mommy, I can do it all by myself,” she insisted.

“No you can’t. It’s dangerous.”

“You want me to take her into town, don’t you?” Yuuri said mildly as he turned back to the counter and continued to peel.

“With the horse and cart, yes.”

“There’s no need to take the cart.”

“She can sit on it with you. That’s safer than a three-year-old riding a pony by herself.”

“I’ll be holding a guide rope.”

“From the back of your own horse. That’s not the same as walking next to her.”

“ _Pleeeeease_ , Mommy,” Taki begged, blinking her eyes.

May opened her mouth to reply when she was interrupted by Patrick, who walked in and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on the table. He took a bite and looked at the three of them. “Mornin’. Hope I ain’t interruptin’ nothin’.”

“Daddy wants me to go on my pony to town with him but Mommy says no,” Taki said, looking angrily at May.

“Oh, well…you know, she’s a damn fine rider for a little ’un, Mrs. Katsuki. You should see her out there – ”

“I do. I know.”

“I’m sure the boss – I mean Yuuri, here, would take good care of her.”

“I know he’d try. But she could fall anyway. She’s only little, Pat.”

“May.” Yuuri ran his hand up her arm and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “I’ll keep a good eye on her, I promise.”

She sighed, looking at him and then at Patrick. “Well I guess I’m outvoted. But please, Yuuri, go slow and watch her every minute.”

“I will.” He turned to Patrick. “What’s up, anyway?”

“Hendersons want us to do a roundup with ’em this year.”

“I don’t see why not. Come on, we can talk on our way out to the stable.” He put the potato down and took Taki’s hand. “Looks like you and I get to go for a little ride.”

***

Their pace was very slow as they covered the few miles into Clearwater, but Yuuri wanted to make sure that Taki was safe, and he wasn’t in any hurry today. May spent much of her time looking after their little girl, and Yuuri had volunteered to give her a break by taking her off her hands for a while. It made a fun change from ranch business, and he was proud of how good she already was with horses at such a young age. He kept a firm grip on her pony’s guide rope all the way to the livery, but it and its rider never faltered on the well-worn road.

They stopped at the general store, where Yuuri bought supplies for himself and May, as well as root-beer candy sticks for Taki and bags of cracked corn and wheat, which they took to a nearby lake to feed to the ducks and swans. On the main street they’d passed Benjamin Bosworth’s Toy Emporium; Taki knew the sign above the store and what it said, and begged Yuuri to take her back there after they were done at the lake. He’d intended to do so anyway, but made a show of not being sure, just to tease her as she got more and more eager and insistent. Finally he picked her up, gave her a kiss, and carried her on his shoulders the rest of the way there, reading the signs above the other stores with her as they went.

“I don’t know why I’m doing this when you’ve only just had a birthday and lots of presents,” he said.

“Because you love me,” she replied matter-of-factly.

“You can love someone and still say no to them.”

“Not if it makes them mad.”

“Hm, we’ll have to have a talk about that later.” He put her down in front of the store. “You can have one thing, OK? Take a look around first. And by one thing, I mean something small – not a doll’s house or a rocking horse. You’ve got a real pony, anyway.”

She gave an excited squeak and dashed inside as soon as he opened the door. “Be careful in there,” he called after her. “Stay near me.”

Benjamin Bosworth’s was a wonderland of delights for boys and girls of all ages. Yuuri didn’t know what he would have made of it if they’d had a similar place in Larkspur; Eva had been famously immune to pestering, but he reckoned he might have given it a try just the same. The store was stacked to the rafters with dolls and doll’s houses, little wooden carriages, rocking horses, games, balls, hoops, toy soldiers and trains, tea sets, puppets, books…the variety on offer seemed endless. There was one big display window at the front of the store, near the door, with glass and sparkly items on show on shelves; further back, the big room was illuminated with bright oil lamps mounted on the walls.

A kind-looking elderly man with gold wire-rimmed glasses standing behind a desk greeted them, introduced himself as the owner, and asked Taki what she was interested in. Yuuri kept a watchful eye, but soon found himself drawn to the window display, where the sunbeams were refracted into slices of rainbows that spilled against the walls. Among the pretty baubles on show were glass ornaments about the size of large paperweights, of a type he’d never seen before; each had some kind of statuette inside, and it looked like the glass was filled with water.

“What are these?” he asked the owner, picking one up and looking at the miniature castle it contained.

“Snow globes. I’ve just had them shipped in from Austria. They’ve been very popular – I’m going to run out before I can order any more. You shake it and the snow falls everywhere inside.”

Yuuri followed the instructions and held the globe up to the light while the little flakes inside whirled and sparkled. He imagined all the people in the castle going about their fairytale lives in their tiny world. Putting it back on the shelf, he examined the other globes. There were a gingerbread house, Santa Claus in a sleigh, fairies dancing in a circle, and other curious little scenes. Yuuri shook a few of the globes, put them down and watched them. He was conscious that he was playing with the display, but it was hard to resist.

He imagined what it would look like if scenes from his own life were contained in globes like these – and then realized that it wasn’t too far from the truth, in his mind at least. He and May and Taki would be standing on the porch of their house in one of the globes, while representations of people and places from his past would be contained in others, sealed safely away and never mixing with the present. The dancing fairies made him think of Clarissa, and he pictured a figurine of her standing in the snow, perhaps when she was young and performing on the stage. The bunkhouse at the Circle C would be contained in another, just like the castle, and you could imagine Walt, Chris and the other men all inside. The Taylors and the Connors in their ranch houses. Phichit, Zach and Jeff in the bunkhouse at the Rafter T.

There would have to be several for Victor as well. One would show him riding Luchik through the snow, wearing the coat Yuuri had given him for his birthday, and his ushanka. In another, he would be wearing the red shirt and black pants from the rodeo – and Yuuri would be on Biscuit beside him in his matching costume, both of them smiling at their audience beyond the confines of the globe. Maybe there would be a scene of them camping in one and sitting next to the fire, cooking or drinking together. One, for his eyes only, would show them both lost in sexual abandon – under a shower of snow? Well, why not. In a bedroll, maybe. They’d almost been desperate enough at times during the winter. The problem was, what position would they be in – what had been his favorite? God, that was a tough choice. He felt his blood race, and grinned to himself. Then it occurred to him that this was probably the first time since the tragedy that he’d been able to think about such intimate moments between him and Victor without feeling like he was being stabbed through the heart. His grin turned into a soft smile, and he felt his heart lift. Maybe there was light at the end of the tunnel after all.

Enjoying the analogy, his focus wandered back to his mental snow globe that contained Clarissa. She had briefly escaped from her containment, so to speak, but that was because Yuuri had found himself in a position to wire her a substantial amount of money once the ranch had become a successful business. He’d verified through the telegraph company that she still lived in Larkspur, and had sent it anonymously. He hoped she could use it to make a change in her circumstances for the better; move out of Sweetwater Sam’s and give up prostitution at the very least. May helped with the accounts for the ranch, and he’d had to think of a good excuse for where the money had gone, involving expenses for the renovation of the buildings and repayments of loans; the fact that it had been early days, not long after he’d bought the spread, made it easier to pull off. But lying to her like that sat sourly in his stomach – as did all the other things that were not lies as such, but which he dared not tell her. He had always prided himself on being an open and honest person, and he hated feeling compelled to behave contrarily to that. But how could he ever explain to her that he’d taken ballet lessons from a prostitute? If he told her the truth, other things would have to come out as well; and like tipping the first in a row of dominoes, he was sure he would be led into confessing secrets that could destroy their relationship – all for the sake of a past that was dead to him now.

He was jolted out of his reverie by a sudden loud tinkling sound, and he looked over and down to discover that Taki was staring at the broken glass and disgorged innards on the wooden floor from a snow globe she must have been handling. It seemed to have contained a miniature family of hares; the figurines were scattered among white granules and tiny puddles. Her face went bright pink and she started to wail. Of course – while his attention had wandered, she’d come over to see what Daddy had been so fascinated with, and had copied what he’d been doing.

Mentally kicking himself for being so careless, he picked her up and told her everything would be all right, while approaching the man at the desk. “I’m really sorry,” he said. “We’ve kind of made a mess.”

“Bunny rabbit,” Taki sniffled, pointing at the remains on the floor.

“Well yeah, I guess so,” Yuuri said. “But it’s not real.”

“I _know_ that,” she managed to huff.

The owner had been very understanding, and Yuuri had insisted on paying for the damage. In the end he’d left the snow globes alone, fearing that Taki might be tempted to play with it if he bought one, and break it again. She’d initially asked him to get her a doll, but he’d persuaded her to settle on a hobby horse instead. She had enough dolls anyway, he figured.

He walked hand in hand with her to the Hotel Dubois, where they took a seat in the restaurant for lunch, Yuuri propping Taki’s hobby horse against the table. Soon he was eating a meal of steak, green beans and mashed potatoes with coffee, while Taki had a grilled cheese sandwich, fried apples and milk. She was telling him about her trip with May to a neighbor’s farm a few days ago, when a visitor walked up to their table, his Stetson in his hand. Yuuri looked up – and blanched.

“Mike,” he breathed, standing up so quickly he almost knocked his chair over. “What…what are you doing here?”

The red-haired cowboy held up a hand. “Now Yuuri, it ain’t like that. I’m not here to turn you in or nothin’. I swear to god, I didn’t know you was here until a minute ago. Can we…talk a while?”

Yuuri swallowed and placed a shaking hand on the table to steady himself. “OK,” he said in a thin voice. “Let me just…” He cocked his head toward Taki, and Mike nodded in understanding. “I’ll be back in a minute, honey,” he said to her.

His insides frozen with fear, he sought out Karen McDonald, who had greeted him and Taki and brought them into the restaurant; he knew she was a friend of May’s, and had been at the birthday party a few weeks back. When he peeked around the door to the kitchen, he spotted her.

“Yuuri, what – ?” she said, bustling over to him. She was about ten years older than May, short and stout, with blonde hair in a bun at the nape of her neck and gentle blue eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just that I’ve had an unexpected visitor at my table, and I need to talk to him about some urgent private business. But I’ve got Taki with me. I hate to ask, but do you think you could – ”

“Take her off your hands for a while?” she finished for him. When he nodded distractedly, she added, “I’d be happy to. She’s a little dear. But…do you want me to get the sheriff for you or somethin’? You look real rattled.”

“No, it’s OK, it’s nothing like that. Thanks, Karen.” He led her over to his table, where Mike stood looking at them, and Taki was finishing her sandwich.

“Hi, sweetie pie,” Karen said to her. “Daddy needs to see this fella for a little while. How about you and me go back to the kitchen, and I’ll show you around? If you’re real good, I might even find one or two treats for you to have.”

When Taki looked questioningly at Yuuri, he said, “It’s OK, honey. I…” He glanced at Mike. “I won’t be long. You can go with Karen.”

“OK.” She got up with the remains of her sandwich in one hand, taking Karen’s with the other. “What treats do you have?”

As they left in conversation, Yuuri sat back down, pushing the remains of the food and drink to the middle of the table and out of the way. Mike sat in the chair across from him. “Now what’s this all about?” Yuuri said sharply.

Mike put up both hands this time in a placating gesture. “Honest to god, Yuuri, I didn’t know you was here. It’s…nice to see you.”

“Mike, no one in Larkspur can know where I am. They’ll – ”

“I ain’t there no more,” Mike jumped in. “I left soon after you an’ Victor…after what happened. I been workin’ on different ranches. Right now I’m on my way up to Montana; I got a job waitin’ for me there. I never liked to stay in one place for too long.”

Yuuri eyed him. “How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”

“How could I have traced you to here?”

“You tell me.”

Mike sighed. “I got somethin’ to tell ya, Yuuri. I…I ain’t proud of it, and it’s been eatin’ away at me all this time.” As Yuuri’s face clouded, he continued, “I never thought I’d get the chance to say so, ’cause I never thought I’d see you again.” He made a choking noise in his throat. “An’ when I’m done, I won’t blame you none if you wanna shoot me for bein’ a yellow bastard.” He paused again.

Yuuri continued to glare at him, both curious and alarmed, but beginning to give some credence to his story so far. He gestured to a waiter nearby and ordered two beers, then sat and looked expectantly at Mike.

“I’m just stayin’ here in Clearwater overnight before I move on. It’s the biggest town in these parts, it seems. Funny bumpin’ into you here. You been here all this time?”

Yuuri stared at him quietly for a long moment. He wished there were some way to assess the veracity of his companion’s words, but all he had to go on was instinct. He believed he was looking at someone who felt sincerely apologetic for something. And that something had affected Yuuri, to the point where he was probably going to be very upset about it when he found out what it was. He didn’t like where this was headed, but he wanted to hear what Mike had to say.

Their beers were brought to them, and they both took a long pull. Then Mike said in a quiet voice, “Yuuri, I was there at Sweetwater Sam’s the day the reverend an’ your dad an’ them other guys got together an’ listened to Sam Stevens tell the story of how he happened across you an’ Victor together the night before.” He made the choking noise again, which was followed by a sob and a sniffle, and his gaze dropped down to the table.

“What,” was all Yuuri could say. He sat in silence and waited.

Mike looked up at the ceiling and blinked back tears. “I ain’t never been so ashamed of myself in my life. You gotta understand, it was a whole room of guys against me. I tried to defend you; I called Ebenezer out for the lies he was makin’ up. That’s what got me thrown out of the saloon. Maybe they made plans together after that. I…I don’t know. I ended up not hearin’ much ’cause I wasn’t there that long.” He lifted his tin mug with a trembling hand and took a long drink.

Yuuri continued to stare at him in shock. Then he said, “You were working at the Circle C. You were living in the bunkhouse with us. We shared drinks together.” He paused, a fire leaping up inside of him. “And you didn’t fucking think to tell _either of us_ that we’d been seen?” Several diners at tables nearby turned their heads to look. Yuuri ignored them and held Mike’s eyes. “That my own _father_ was there with them, talking about this?” He shook his head. “I can’t fucking believe what I’m hearing, Mike. I…I don’t know what to say.” He felt his eyes filling with tears. Damn it, he was _not_ going to cry.

Tears were certainly dripping down Mike’s cheeks now. “That’s why I said, once you’d heard, I wouldn’t blame you if – ”

“You’re goddamn right,” Yuuri said in a shaking voice. “You…if you’d said something to us, we might’ve stood a chance of getting out of there. Together. I…oh hell,” he finished just above a whisper, putting his head in his hands and sitting in silence.

“At the time, I guess I figured it was just none of my business.” Yuuri looked up quickly with red-rimmed eyes, but before he could say anything else, Mike added, “I ain’t tryin’ to justify what I did – or didn’t do. It’s just that, well, I’ve gotten so used to travelin’ around ranches and mindin’ my own business that sometimes, well…I ignore stuff that _oughta_ be my business. An’ that day, I shoulda told you what I’d heard. I’ve wished so many times I could take it back and do things different. The guilt just about kills me sometimes.” He wiped a hand across his mouth, then used a sleeve to brush at the tears staining his face.

“You deserve every bit of it, and more,” Yuuri muttered.

“I ain’t gonna argue. I’m so sorry.”

Yuuri drank his beer. As the silence dragged out between them, he felt his anger dying back down to a simmer. The mistake that the man sitting in front of him had made could not be taken back. And Yuuri knew there were plenty of others who would have deliberately not said anything to himself or Victor if they’d been in the same situation, either because they didn’t want to get involved or because they actually wanted the two of them to get caught. Mike had simply been human.

Yuuri sighed and looked at him with a level gaze. “I guess living with it on your conscience is punishment enough, from the sound of it,” he finally said. “At least you seem to have one.”

Mike nodded. “Those are kinder words than I would’ve expected. I…I’m in your debt, Yuuri.” He drank the rest of his beer. “Look…I reckon maybe the good lord’s givin’ me a chance to try to put things right today. Maybe that’s why I bumped into you here. It sure ain’t been easy tellin’ you this stuff, but I spent years wantin’ to. An’ I got somethin’ else to tell you that might go some small way to makin’ up for it.”

“Oh?” Yuuri said flatly, sipping the rest of his beer.

“I went on a trip to St. Louis a coupla months back, visitin’ an old friend. It’s a long story. But anyways, I went into a café on the riverfront – an’ I’m sure I saw Victor there.”

Yuuri gave a start, then stared. Then he shook his head and laughed mirthlessly. “That’s the craziest thing I ever heard. Forget it, Mike; you’re not going to make things up to me that way. I’m not going to shoot you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m serious, Yuuri. Honest to god. Though I guess it’d make things kinda complicated, if that was your daughter you were with just now – ”

“He’s dead,” Yuuri snapped back, his voice rising again. “I saw it happen myself. And you walk in here and tell me you spotted him in a café in St. Louis. Jesus, just listen to yourself. This is stupid.” He began to get up from his chair, ready to leave.

Mike reached out and put a hand on his arm. “Just hear me out – please?”

The note of sincerity in his voice gave Yuuri pause. He was still convinced Mike was mistaken, though it sounded like the man _believed_ he had seen Victor, at any rate. Yuuri really didn’t need a knife being twisted in his gut in this way, he thought with acerbity, but he sat back down and waited for Mike to continue.

“I know it’s a very unlikely thing. But I know what I saw, and I’m passin’ it on to you. Ain’t many guys around who look like him, you know? I got a pretty good view from where I was sittin’. He was at a table by himself, drinkin’ coffee an’ readin’ a newspaper. He was dressed like one of them city slickers – black suit, shiny shoes – but it was the same color hair and haircut, same eyes – you know them sharp eyes of his – an’ he was wearin’ the same tan duster coat. He got them long-fingered hands, too; more like a piano player than a cowboy.”

Yuuri stared again at Mike. He began to picture the scene in his mind. And in that moment he hated Mike for it, because he knew it couldn’t be true. It was just some random person who bore an unusual resemblance to Victor, and Mike was tantalizing him with it. And yet…what if it was…? Could it be possible? But there was no way Victor could have survived the stampede, even if the bullet wound had somehow not been fatal.

“You didn’t go over and talk to him?” Yuuri said.

“Uh, well, I was kinda surprised to see him there, for one thing. And then I thought about the stuff I just told you – you know, about what I’d heard at Sweetwater Sam’s. And I thought, ‘If this really is Victor, I’m gonna have to go over there an’ explain it all to him.’ Like I did with you just now. I had to take a minute to work out how to do that, an’ what to say. But before I could do anything else, he was out the door an’ into the street. Left money for his coffee on the table.”

“Well that’s convenient.” Yuuri leaned back in his chair. “I’m going to be honest and tell you I think this whole thing is bullshit.”

“You’re entitled to your opinion. But I thought I oughta pass it on to you, at least.”

There was another silence. Yuuri stroked his cheek and his chin.

“ _Was_ that your daughter with you?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri admitted. “Taki. She’s three.”

“Cute little tyke.”

Yuuri sighed. “You want another beer?”

“That’d hit the spot. On me this time.”

And so they ended up talking for a while, Mike about the ranches he’d been working on, and Yuuri about his life in Clearwater. Yuuri felt the rancor stirred up inside of him by Mike’s actions slowly fade, to be replaced by the warm nostalgia of companionship in the bunkhouse. And he welcomed it, even though he still felt shaken, and his disposition toward Mike was not altogether friendly. Forgiving didn’t include forgetting. But he was convinced now that Mike’s words were honest at least, and he had not arrived here for the purpose of taking Yuuri back to Larkspur.

“You thinkin’ of doin’ anything about what I’ve told you?” Mike asked after they’d each finished their second beer. “Or do you think it’s best to let sleepin’ dogs lie?”

Yuuri stared into his empty tin mug. “This is a lot to take in, Mike,” he said quietly. “But…I don’t think it’s possible that it was Victor you saw.” He glanced at the kitchen door. This was taking longer than he’d anticipated, and Karen had surreptitiously looked in on them a few times, though she hadn’t interrupted. “I just don’t know.”

“Well whatever you do, I wish you all the best. I…hope you can be happy.”

Yuuri’s eyes alighted on the hobby horse propped against the table. No thanks to Mike, that goal seemed far out of reach. And yet, life could be far worse than it was now.

But if it really _had_ been Victor Mike had seen – if there was even a chance…

What on earth was he supposed to do?


	52. Chapter 52

There was only one thing he _could_ do. He had to find out if Victor was alive.

In the days following his unexpected meeting with Mike, Yuuri felt restless. He kept telling himself that it was the height of folly to pin any hopes on a tentative sighting of someone who looked like Victor, in a big city a long way away, when he knew Victor was dead. Besides, if by some miracle he _had_ survived, wouldn’t he have come looking for Yuuri?

_Maybe he didn’t know where I was. Maybe someone in Larkspur knows something._

But he was through with taking stupid risks where loved ones were concerned. He often wished he and Victor had been more careful about what they’d done on the ranch, and where; though he’d thought the grotto had been the safest place they visited, and that was where they’d ended up being seen. At any rate, even after several years, he was still afraid that if the wrong people in Larkspur found out where he was, it wasn’t just his own well-being that would be in jeopardy, but that of his family and the men on his ranch as well. So he was not going to travel there, just in case anybody spotted him – one person was all it took, in one careless or unlucky moment. There was no one he could send in his place, either; he did not feel ready to confide his past secrets to anyone here in Clearwater. And telegrams and letters could be intercepted. He suspected that someone as canny as his father might actually be on the lookout for them; had possibly even bribed the telegraph operator to tell him if Yuuri attempted to contact anyone there. Trying to have any dealings with Larkspur would be like stepping into a nest of rattlesnakes.

The only other option that remained, as far as he could see, was to travel to St. Louis and go on what would no doubt turn out to be a wild goose chase. Mike had opened the door to a possibility, however small it was, and Yuuri knew it was going to eat at him until he at least looked into it. He told himself that he simply had to _know_. It didn’t mean he would _act_ if he found Victor. He didn’t have to destroy what he’d built here with May and Taki. Though in reality, he refused to mentally rehearse the possible outcomes of the situation. Sometimes it was better not to think about things too much, and trust that instinct would be a good guide the moment it was called upon.

As he’d expected, May was unhappy about the surprise announcement of another long business trip so close on the heels of the one he’d taken to Chicago. Could he really spare the time and expense? Were these prospective cattle buyers offering such good deals that Yuuri had to meet with them so urgently? Did the ranch need any more buyers outside of Chicago? In the end, however, she said she trusted his judgment, and relented. That only made the guilt that Yuuri felt worse, as the story about the buyers was an out-and-out lie. Even if there _were_ good deals to be had in St. Louis, he didn’t want contacts in yet another large city when it didn’t seem necessary. But he’d made his decision, and so he embarked upon the journey and stuffed the guilt down. If that feeling were a snow globe, he imagined the figurine inside would look like some twisted monster from a fairytale, forever ruminating on ways to escape its confines. The glass surrounding it would have to be strong enough to hold.

There was no Englishman with piercing blue eyes offering him cups of tea on the trains this time, but Yuuri decided that spending at least some of the journey with other passengers was likely to be more interesting, and help the time pass more quickly, than being on his own. He sat with a family of four for a while, two parents with sons of eight and ten. Yuuri asked the boys about life on their farm, and told them what he could remember about his Japanese parents’ farm in California, as well as about the rodeos he’d seen and participated in. The wonder in their eyes was a delight, though he could see from their parents’ faces that they thought he was exaggerating, which he found amusing. _Yes, we really did those things, Victor and I._ Later on, a woman who looked to be in her sixties, wearing a bonnet and a shawl, and traveling alone, sat down nearby, and when Yuuri spoke to her he found out she was on her way to visit her grandchildren. He never had any conversations with anyone that went much deeper than small talk, and spent chunks of time on his own to relax between his interactions with other passengers, but it still felt satisfying in a way. For once, he did not feel lonely in the middle of a gathering of people.

The train station in St. Louis opened out onto a wide, busy street near the Mississippi riverfront. When Yuuri got off and went to look around, he thought he must look like a gawping fish. The edges of the river were choked with huge riverboats from which tall black smokestacks poked up. In either direction, as far as Yuuri could see, were people toiling to load and unload cargo. Warehouses and tin-roofed shacks were clustered around, and factories in the distance belched out dark smoke. As Yuuri walked, he passed many shops and businesses, and there seemed to be a pub or a bar on every corner. This was not surprising, as the aroma of brewing malt and hops seemed to be a permanent fixture here. Yuuri eventually decided that St. Louis had a different feel to it than Chicago; somehow more down to earth or rough and ready, especially with all the colorful characters who were coming and going from the boats. It was as if someone had lassoed a giant chunk of Texas or some other wild western place, complete with saloon girls and outlaws, and dropped it here on top of all these buildings. Instead of Mexicans and vaqueros, there were Germans and Irish, and many establishments that were obviously owned by them: O’Leary’s Pub, Federhofer’s Bakery.

Despite his innate dislike of large cities, Yuuri’s interest was piqued, and he stopped at a German place called Das Wiedersehen Bierhaus for bratwurst and sauerkraut, washed down with a stein of beer. Afterward, hearing the notes of an accordion, tuba and clarinet drifting in from the park across the street, he made his way over and leaned against a cast-iron fence as he watched a small group of musicians in what he presumed was traditional German dress, complete with little hats and feathers, play a waltzing tune. Some couples were dancing on the concrete area in front of them, with the wide muddy river in the background.

There were more people watching the musicians than dancing, many of them holding mugs of beer they’d purchased across the street. There was a young woman with a little girl, an elderly couple, and a handful of men who looked like they were on a lunch break from their office work, among others. Yuuri suddenly thought about how he himself was dressed, along with his Stetson, and realized it was uncommon enough around here to draw attention. In fact, he noticed he was attracting a few prolonged looks. Well, let them, if they’d never seen a cowboy before.

As he tapped a foot to the lively music, he flicked a glance across the small crowd of onlookers. There was a copper-haired, green-eyed, clean-shaven man in a brown suit and white shirt with the collar undone, and no hat, who seemed to be gazing back. Yuuri put him at several years younger than himself, maybe mid-twenties. He was quite striking, with high cheekbones, a firm jaw, and a look of confidence that bordered on smugness. When their eyes met, he smirked, and Yuuri looked away. He wondered if he could be tempted by another beer – the German brews here seemed to be tastier and stronger than the usual mass-produced stuff. There was certainly no hurry to begin the task he’d set himself. In fact, perhaps he was guilty of procrastinating a bit – putting off the inevitable moment when, after a fruitless search, he had to admit that he wasn’t going to find Victor in a city of over 350,000 people, if he was even here at all. Yuuri only had the name of the café Mike had visited and its location.

He looked over and saw that the younger man was still eyeing him with that half-smile. Yuuri had little experience with flirting, but thought that was a reasonable assumption of what the fellow was doing. Then the man put his empty beer mug on the border of a raised flower bed next to the fence and started to approach.

_No. No, no, no._ Yuuri hurried away from the area before the man had a chance to accost him, and quickly lost himself in the crowd on the main street. _Was I leading him on somehow?_ he thought as he aimlessly drifted with the tide of people. Had his own eye lingered a touch too long, maybe?  

Yuuri had worked out a while ago that he had indeed been attracted to men, without realizing it, before he’d met Victor. It wasn’t something he’d ever admitted to himself on a conscious level, which was why he hadn’t been sure at first, even when he was later asked twice. Certain things had been pleasing – a good physique, well-fitted clothes, a sensual way of moving. But to say to himself “That’s what I desire” would have meant something was very wrong with him, because that wasn’t how it was supposed to be if you were a man. To complicate things further, he was attracted to women as well, just maybe not so much, or differently; though what he’d said to Victor was still true, too – that for him what mattered more than anything was simply who the person was. Well, whoever that man was over there who’d been looking at him like a lollipop he wanted to lick, it wasn’t going to happen. Some baser instinct deep inside of him flashed a quick picture of a fun time in a hotel room, but he was revolted by the idea and carried on. He had no idea where he was, apart from someplace along the river, and thought he’d better find a shop that sold maps of the city.

He didn’t need to hunt for long, and, armed with his map, he sought out The Silver Spoon on the corner of North Broadway and Locust. The river was visible from here, as well as a great iron bridge that spanned across it, with ships of all sizes passing underneath. It was certainly an interesting view if you chose a table near the window.

Taking a deep breath, Yuuri approached a middle-aged woman wearing an apron at a counter inside and introduced himself, then explained he was looking for someone who had visited the café. His hope was that he might be a regular habitué of the establishment. Russian, good-looking, bright blue eyes, duster coat, etcetera. But Yuuri knew how ridiculous it sounded the moment he said it, and wasn’t surprised to hear that the woman had never seen such a man. However, if he cared to come back another time and talk to a different member of staff, he was welcome. He thanked her and said he would.

He tried establishments nearby as well, cafés and bars that he thought might be the sorts of places Victor might visit, but met with no luck. He asked if they knew of any businesses nearby that were run by Russians, on the off chance that Victor might be drawn there for that reason, and was told there was a restaurant called Vlada further north on Broadway. This he visited next, with the same negative result. It then occurred to him that if Victor read the newspaper, maybe he’d come across something in the personal advertisements column. Yuuri spent the remainder of the afternoon visiting the offices of the major newspapers, paying to place an ad to run for several days that said simply: “Yuuri Katsuki Taylor seeks Victor Nikiforov. Call at Linden Hotel, O’Fallon Street.” He imagined a wide variety of more interesting and romantic ways to word it, but thought it best to keep it simple, especially if anyone who knew Victor happened to read it and didn’t know who Yuuri was. If Victor was here. If he was even alive.

What he hadn’t anticipated was that, now that he’d placed the advertisement, whenever he was in the hotel he couldn’t help but hope Victor would walk in at any moment. He pictured different reunion scenarios in his mind, the most common one being where there was a knock on the door of his room, he opened it, and Victor would be standing there looking like Mike had described him: handsome and dapper in a black suit and his duster coat, his blue eyes shining, his white-blond bangs hanging rakishly over his left eye. He’d stare at Yuuri like a thirsty man crawling through a desert who had arrived at an oasis, and Yuuri would return the look with interest, and they’d cling together with tears running down their faces, and say they’d never expected to see each other again.   

But Yuuri stopped himself from imagining what would happen after that, because he was married to May.

And no one knocked on his door. Not even a porter, for any reason.

The whole week he stayed.

In a way, he never wanted to leave; to let go of the last shred of hope he had, however unrealistic, that Victor was here, if he could just find him.

But what if…what if he _was_ here, but he’d moved on; was with someone else now? After all, that was what Yuuri had done. In the dark recesses of his mind, Yuuri pictured Victor reading the advertisement in the newspaper, or having his attention drawn to it by somebody…and ignoring it.

_He wouldn’t do that. He’d at least contact me._

_Why am I torturing myself like this?_

Shoving such thoughts aside, he’d tried every place he thought Victor might chance to visit if he were in the area, including The Silver Spoon café on numerous occasions, and even local stables where he might be working. But he was tired of the big smoggy city with its perpetual odor of hops. He’d also encountered stagecoaches on the streets twice, which he supposed couldn’t be helped in a place of this size. His heart had begun to race, and he’d braced himself against the wall of a building both times, closing his eyes and willing himself to stay calm. Fortunately he hadn’t suffered worse consequences than that. Strange how what had happened in Larkspur, more immediate and seemingly more painful, hadn’t done the same thing to him – given him a morbid fear of cattle or guns or tracker dogs. And yet that event from his childhood had never released its hold over him.

One morning, with a heavy heart, he packed the few possessions he’d brought with him – including a present of perfume for May, and books and candies for Taki – and checked out of the hotel. He told himself how stupid he’d been to come here in the first place, because his initial reaction to Mike’s words had been the sensible one – the guy had seen someone in a café here and mistaken him for Victor. He wondered at the way he’d been so determined to come anyway, despite the remote odds that Mike had actually been correct, and despite the fact that Victor’s reappearance would turn his personal life upside down in ways he didn’t want to contemplate. But he could also find some understanding for the part of himself that had reached out with both hands, trying to grasp a chance at regaining the deep love they’d shared, and to hell with the consequences. Who wouldn’t move heaven and earth, if they could, to have that in their life?

The streets near the station were crowded this morning, Yuuri presumed with people traveling to work. He stopped and purchased a _Post-Dispatch_ from a newsboy to read on the train, then lingered to take a last look around the city. The gas lighting at night had been beautiful; he wondered when back-of-beyond places like Clearwater would finally be able to enjoy its benefits. And he’d never seen such a bewildering variety of stores and places of entertainment. Just along the street here were a grocery, a barber’s shop, a furniture store, a chocolatier, a French restaurant, a bank, and a haberdashery. If he’d been here with a companion, it might have been interesting to investigate some of these; but this morning he’d braced himself to begin the long journey home.

He tucked his newspaper under his arm, adjusted his Stetson, and joined the flow of people into the station. The train was on time and left shortly after he boarded.   


	53. Chapter 53

“I could have done with your help downstairs. A simply endless stream of customers came in just before closing time. What on earth have you been doing up here?” Jonah called as he walked into his first-story apartment, shutting the door behind him and putting his shiny black top hat on a nearby stand. He was striking to look at, as the visitors to his furniture shop downstairs could attest: tall and thin, with black hair falling to his shoulders in gentle waves. He had topaz eyes like a cat’s, and delicate features set off with full, sensual lips. A small gold hoop pierced one earlobe. On his fingers were rings made of many different metals and gems, clacking when they moved. He wore a ruffled white shirt underneath a dark blue velvet suit, and he took a walking stick for ornamentation most places he went, which at the moment was leaning against the wall, its silver tip gleaming under the gaslights.

“I haven’t been up here the whole time. I was at the stable, practicing with Luchik. Then I came back and was looking for this.” Victor laid his crimson shirt with gold trim on the bed, next to his black fitted pants, as Jonah walked into the room. “I was thinking of wearing it for the rodeo next weekend. What do you think?”

“It’ll look stunning on you, my beauty,” Jonah answered, pulling distractedly at the ruffles of his sleeves poking out from the cuffs of his suit jacket. “As everything does – and you know it, so why are you asking me?”

Victor continued to hunt through the cardboard boxes he’d placed on the bed. There were several items he’d already removed, which were scattered around on the quilt.

“And there’s nothing to eat for dinner, I see. I thought you said you were going to cook tonight.”

“Hm?” He paused and gave Jonah a vacant look. “Ah, yes. I got involved in all this, and I suppose I forgot.” He held a curved silver sword up, and it flashed. “I’m sorry.”

“Victor, what _are_ these things?” Jonah asked in an irritated tone, moving forward to have a closer look. He took the sword from Victor and swished it through the air. “Are you planning to murder someone?”

Victor took it off of him and laid it back down next to its twin on the bed. “Not today.” He contemplated them. “I’d almost forgotten I had them – I came across them when I was hunting through these boxes for my costume. I could use them in the rodeo, but it’s been a while, and I’m out of practice.”

Jonah let out a sharp chuckle. “What do you do with them in the rodeo? Cut the audience’s dinner steaks while they watch?”

“They’re for show,” Victor said, eyeing him. “Of all people, you ought to understand that.”

Seeming to think better of the reply he was about to make, Jonah examined the other items on the bed. “I didn’t know you had all these things stashed away. You…never told me much about what you did before you came to the city.”

“I was under the impression you thought ranch life was beneath you.”

“Was _this_ part of ranch life?” Jonah asked skeptically, picking up a burlap stuffed rabbit with black button-eyes.

“Oh,” Victor said in a quiet voice, as if he’d only just noticed it himself. “That…that belongs…belonged…to someone else, but I ended up with it. Isn’t it sweet?” He lifted it up and examined it.

Jonah snorted a little laugh. “I might have said so if I were still five years old.”

“Whatever happened to your sense of fun?”

“It went when I had to start paying bills, my dear.”

“I know that’s not true. We _used_ to have fun. Sometimes.” He gave Jonah a sidelong look and began to neatly fold his costume.

“When you were in the mood for it, yes.” He paused. “Let me know when it happens again.” Glancing inside one of the boxes, he put his hand inside and lifted out a pale wooden figurine. “What’s this? You’ve got a stash of them in there. Is it supposed to be some kind of animal?”

Victor gazed at him, all traces of mirth having vanished from his eyes. “It was a gift.”

“The giver must have thought rather poorly of you in that case.” He snorted quietly again. “If anyone tried to sell this to me to put on display in the store downstairs, I would have laughed him out the door.” He replaced it in the box and leaned over to get a good look at the other figurines. “Did one of your cowboy friends make these, Victor? They surely can’t be Russian. Why on earth did you keep them?”

The blood had been rushing to Victor’s head during Jonah’s speech; he felt it staining his cheeks. He couldn’t remember ever having gotten so angry, so quickly, at him before. “I like them,” he said firmly, taking the box, replacing its lid, and putting it on top of the wardrobe. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Don’t patronize me.” Taking a deep breath, Jonah switched the subject. “Well, seeing as how there’s nothing here to eat, might I suggest some French food from down the road? Not that you’re exactly dressed to dine out,” he added, looking pointedly at Victor’s cowboy clothes. “I’ll go there myself and bring us something back, shall I? I’ve got a few errands to do while I’m out anyway.”

Victor nodded, stashing his costume, swords and Cookie in the second box and stowing it next to the first. He heard the apartment door open and close as Jonah left.

Then he slid down until he was sitting on the wooden floorboards next to the bed, and put his head in his hands. How had it come to this between them?

The thought flitted through his mind: _Yuuri, I miss you._ He allowed it to pass through and flit back out. It was an old companion by now.

Jonah was right; Victor had never told him much about his past. But why was that, exactly? Because he didn’t want to share it with this man, that was why; and the more painful the pieces of it were, the less he wanted to share them. Why had it felt so natural to tell Yuuri about his past, then? Victor had shared more with him than he’d ever shared with anyone. That day on the way back from Abilene, when Yuuri had asked him about his previous lovers and he’d told him, he’d meant it when he’d said there were no more secrets left between them. But he’d been more open than this in previous relationships, too.

It suddenly hit him that he didn’t even _like_ Jonah a great deal anymore, let alone love him. His arrogant, preening, affected mannerisms irritated him more and more these days. Had he once thought they were sexy? And yet here the two of them were, sharing their lives, a business, a bed. And it was frightening – what had he been doing all this time, going through his life like a sleepwalker, not noticing things around him that should have been plain to see? Why had it taken these relics from a past life to force his attention on the present?

A shiver passed through him, and he sighed, raking a hand through his hair. His self-awareness seemed to have deserted him upon his arrival here, somehow. It was like he’d forgotten how to feel, and therefore had lost his compass. He’d lost some self-respect too; he knew that. Some of the things Jonah had asked him to do, he really should have said no to – and in the past, if anyone had asked, he was sure he would have done. What had happened to him?

And what should he do about it? 

***

“Here we are,” Jonah said, putting some of the bags he was carrying down on the kitchen table. “These other bags are from the grocery – I’ll leave them over here on the counter. And I’ve got to get some things together in the bedroom. While I’m busy, why don’t you dish up. There’s _soupe maison gratineé aux oignons, coq au vin,_ and _salade la norvégienne_ _._ With _une bouteille de vin rouge_ _._ Though no doubt I’ve said one of those wrong. You’re the expert.”

“ _Merci_. This is quite a feast,” Victor said, pulling out bowls, plates, glasses and cutlery from the cupboard. “To what do I owe the pleasure? I thought you were angry at me for not cooking.”

Jonah fell silent and looked at him for a moment. “Does there have to be a special reason for us to have a nice time together?”

Victor returned his gaze with curiosity. “No, of course not.”

When Jonah emerged from the bedroom, Victor had had the food ready on the table, and they ate mostly in silence, sharing out the bottle of wine between them. Afterward, Jonah washed the dishes while Victor stoked the fire, and then Jonah opened another bottle of red wine and poured them both a glass as they sat at the table.

“Now I know something’s up,” Victor said, attempting to add a note of humor to his voice. “You’re trying to get me drunk, aren’t you? What’s your wicked plan?”

“I just thought the wine might help.” His eyes shifted to the table top.

“Help what?”

“What I have to tell you.” He caressed the globe of his wine glass with fingers that glittered with rings.

Victor felt his stomach drop. “I’m listening.”

Jonah’s fingers stopped caressing and started drumming lightly. “Victor…I can’t carry on like this. I want you to move out.”

“Move out,” Victor echoed.

There was a pause. “Yes.”

Victor paused as well. “I see.”

“I’m sorry. I never meant for it to be like this.”

“Me either.” Victor supposed they both knew what was meant by “like this”. It was what he’d been contemplating the entire time Jonah had been out that evening. “Have…you found someone else?” it eventually occurred to him to ask; and as soon as he saw Jonah’s face in reaction to the question, he knew. He was relieved that Victor had brought it up, rather than having to do it himself. _Well this is novel,_ Victor thought bitterly. _It’s the first time I’ve been dumped in favor of someone else, as opposed to being deserted just because._

“I’ve been seeing him for a few months now,” Jonah said. “But that’s not the point. Whatever’s gone wrong between us, it started before that. You must have noticed. We’re not even affectionate anymore, Victor. When was the last time we had a proper passionate kiss? And yet we’re still sleeping in the same bed.” He sighed. “I can’t _bear_ it. I want you out of my life, my business, my apartment. I’ve just been trying to think of a way to tell you. So I’m doing it now, because it needs to be done.” He stopped and stared at Victor expectantly.

What Victor was experiencing was not a broken heart, which he thought was sad enough given the circumstances. No, what he felt was humiliation. Fortunately, it was tempered by the direction his thoughts and feelings had taken earlier, because the fact of the matter was that if Jonah hadn’t ended it between them, he would have done it himself sometime soon.

“You don’t mince your words, do you?” he said with a small humorless laugh.

Jonah sighed again, and his voice softened as he looked at Victor with…genuine pain, he thought, in his eyes. “You haven’t been happy the whole time I’ve known you,” he said. “When I first met you, that was what I saw. And I wanted to try to fix it for you. I wanted to see your lovely smile and blue eyes light up the room. But…and it took me a while to realize this…I couldn’t do it. And I got tired of trying.” As Victor continued to watch him, taking in what he was saying, he added, “You don’t even seem to belong here. Wherever it was you lived before you came here, I’ve always gotten the impression you’d be happier back there. I don’t know why you left in the first place, and you never would tell me. How are we supposed to make a relationship work if we don’t talk to each other about things like that?”

“It’s complicated,” was all Victor could think to say.

“Maybe it is. Though I’m not stupid, and I’m sure you could have found a way to tell me if you’d wanted to. All I know is that you’re going to keep pulling me down with you if I stay with you, and I have a right to happiness myself.” He paused. “It’s a shame, because you’re nice to look at, and you’ve been a good business partner.”

The last sentence felt like a slap in the face. _Nice to look at?_ His pride was wounded, and he was angry at himself for being vain enough for it to happen so easily. But then, _good business partner_. For god’s sake, they’d been _lovers_ , they’d been _living_ together, and Jonah was dismissing him as lightly as someone he did deals with in an office. Had things really deteriorated so much between them? Of course they had, he told himself. Jonah had been seeing someone behind his back as well.

There was little left to be said after that. Jonah was willing to quickly settle up regarding the business, so that Victor no longer owned any part of it. Maybe, he said, it would help him to set himself up somewhere else where he could be happier. He seemed to mean it genuinely, and Victor appreciated it. In fact, Jonah seemed to be pleasantly surprised that Victor was taking the whole thing so well. Victor, for his part, simply couldn’t argue with anything Jonah had said, and kept asking himself why he’d even chosen this road in the first place, when it had ended up hurting them both; something he should have realized would eventually happen. And when Victor said he needed a few days to pack his things and decide what to do next, and Jonah said he would get out of the way and stay with his lover for as long as necessary, he just said that was fine by him; and maybe it actually was.

Starting tonight, apparently. Well, why waste time now that this was all out in the open? Victor thought darkly as he watched Jonah leave with a valise and his bags of groceries. The wining-and-dining approach must have occurred to him after their earlier unpleasant encounter, when he’d gone out to do his errands and find dinner for them. Now all that wonderful food was sitting like a rock in Victor’s stomach.

He thought about when he’d first met Jonah, at a party at a manor house he’d been invited to by a regular visitor to the livery where he’d been working. Jonah had been enamored with him from the start, and Victor had been drawn to him too, perhaps because each had found the other so interesting and different from what they were used to. Victor had been wearing a suit; if he’d arrived in his cowboy clothes like he did at the livery, he thought with amusement, Jonah would have just turned his nose up at him. And he’d found Jonah attractive in a suave, feminine kind of way. He was incisively intelligent and charming, which no doubt had gone a long way toward helping him make a success of the furniture store. And he was good at what he did, despite his foppish appearance that suggested he might like nothing better than to sit in a comfortable padded chair in the window of some upmarket café and sip drinks all day while passing judgment on the world and everyone in it. In fact, his hard-work ethic bordered on obsessive at times, or so Victor felt. He was a passionate man, and he’d chosen to funnel that passion into running his business. And Victor was flattered to be asked to buy into it, move in, and help him run it. Together, they could charm the birds from the trees when it came to dealing with customers; it had even seemed like a little game between them at times.

Victor had enjoyed going around the city with Jonah, to performances and restaurants and parties. And if Jonah seemed to want to show Victor off like the sparkliest ring on his finger, Victor was content to appreciate the novelty of it all. There were so many more people here, living such diverse lives; and it was such a busy place, with so many things to do. But when the novelty had started to wear off, which Victor supposed was inevitable, he hadn’t been left with much. The most _real_ part of his life was what still tied him to his past – going back to the livery stable, where he no longer worked now that he was with Jonah, but where Luchik was kept. Victor went there to groom and ride him most days, as it was only a few blocks away; and even in a great city like this, there were still rodeos to entertain the masses and remind them that cowboys and ranchers lived virtually on their doorstep. It wasn’t just that Victor thought it was fun to participate. He felt he needed to, somehow, in order to avoid losing touch altogether with whatever spark still animated him. 

Well, he wasn’t going to start packing tonight. He didn’t feel like doing much of anything. Maybe he’d have an early night.

Then he remembered the boxes he’d stashed on top of the wardrobe. In his haste to find his costume, he hadn’t had a proper look at the other items. He pulled the boxes back down onto the bed, removed the lids, and examined their contents.

Whoever had packed Luchik for him at the Circle C had done a thorough job, even including things that had no practical purpose but which held great sentimental value – had they known that? Had it been Chris? He took out the animals that Yuuri had whittled and given him, one at a time, and turned them over in his hands under the lamplight. He caressed their smooth surfaces and smiled to himself. Then he packed them away and pulled out the little burlap rabbit with the floppy ears and button eyes, remembering the times he’d brought it to the rodeo to cheer Yuuri on with. His breath hitched in his throat, and he leaned over and kissed the top of its rough head.

He’d given up hope some time back that he’d ever get news of Yuuri. It had been years now. Thoughts of him still came and went with regularity, but Victor was afraid that if he dwelled on them in any depth, he would find himself buried under them; smothered by their intensity, and by the magnitude of the loss. He wondered where Yuuri was and what he was doing. Was he even alive?

It was telling, he thought, that his partner had just broken up with him, but he was grieving for someone else entirely.

***

It only took a couple of days, in the end, for him to feel certain that he was ready to leave the apartment for good. He hadn’t amassed many possessions here, perhaps as an old habit from itinerant ranch life. And at a loss for what else to do, at least in the short term, he’d gone back to the livery stable and asked for his old job back, and they were happy to oblige. In the spare time he had, he’d visited O’Leary’s Pub on several occasions. It took the edge off things, stopped him from thinking too much – and, he had to admit, the Irish took drinking to a high, and low, art form.

He put in a good few days’ work at the stable, just to make sure that his employers had no regrets about taking him back, and concentrated the rest of the time on his trick riding. There was a corral in the park across the street, larger than the enclosed area behind the stable, that he used for this purpose; sometimes a little audience gathered to watch him, which could be fun and irritating in turns. Tomorrow he planned to go hunting for a new place to live, and once he found something he would have to let Jonah know. He had an address to contact him at, care of his new no doubt devastatingly handsome and sexually proficient lover. Because Victor didn’t fit either of those descriptions at all, did he? _Is that green creeping into your eyes,_ zaichik _? Might you actually be feeling just a little bit jealous?_ What a laugh. Of course not. Well, he knew it was a lie, but still. His pride _was_ wounded.

He was standing in Luchik’s stall, rubbing linseed oil into his saddle by the light of a lantern as his last chore of the day before he returned to Jonah’s empty apartment, when Rory walked in to take over the night shift. He was a balding, heavyset man in his forties with the most glorious sense of humor Victor had ever discovered in a person, and he was good with the horses despite being perpetually out of shape.

“Hey there, my man,” he greeted Victor as he walked over to the desk nearby and started leafing through some paperwork. “You’re here late tonight. Ain’t seen ya in a while. How’ve ya been keepin’?”

Victor glanced up briefly and smiled. “Truth be told, not so good, Rory. But it could be worse. I’ve got Luchik here, and we’re going to be in a rodeo this weekend.” He patted his horse and said to him in a singsong voice, “Aren’t we, my handsome?”

“Well you’ll rake in the prize money anyway, like ya always do.”

They continued to exchange small talk and banter, until Victor declared he was finished for the night and tidied Luchik’s stall.

Rory was checking harnesses hanging on the wall when he looked over his shoulder just before Victor left. “Say, I’d been meanin’ to ask ya – did that foreign-soundin’ guy ever get hold of ya?”

Victor slung his leather bag over his shoulder and eyed him. “Hm?”

“The one with the funny name who put in the paper that he was lookin’ for ya.”

Intrigued, Victor went to the desk, where Rory had gone and was pulling out newspapers from a niche on the other side of it. “Can’t remember what day it was in. You didn’t see it? Guy took out a personal ad. You weren’t here at the time, and then I was away for a while, so I forgot about it; thought you’d probably come across it yourself anyway.”

“I have no idea who’d want to do that,” Victor said.

“Musta been…let’s see…maybe a coupla weeks back.” He checked a few of the papers, scanning through the ads. Victor picked one up as well, but didn’t see anything that could have been in any way meant for him.

“I appreciate it, Rory, but it’s getting late. I might as well – ”

“Here it is,” Rory said triumphantly, folding the paper so that the ad was in prominent view on top. “Who is this guy, anyway? You know him?”

Victor leaned over and looked at the paper in Rory’s hands. As he took in what it said, he snatched it from him and read it again. And again. He gasped, his eyes blew open wide, and his head swam. He gripped the edge of the desk with white knuckles.

“Victor?” Rory asked, his face and voice full of concern.

But Victor had already scrambled out of the stable and into the street.


	54. Chapter 54

“Please,” Victor breathed, “you must have a guest here with that name. He put an ad in the paper saying he was trying to find me. Look.” He thrust the _Globe-Democrat_ in front of the young blonde woman at the hotel desk as Rory had folded it, with Yuuri’s message showing clearly.

She was blanching, no doubt taking in his wild eyes and agitated demeanor. “I told you, sir; I’ve looked through the guest register. There’s no one here with that name.” She swallowed. “How…how old is that paper?”

Victor unfolded it and looked at the front page. “Ah. Two weeks.”

“Then I would have to conclude that the gentleman left.”

“Did he leave any information behind? A way of contacting him, an address?”

“Sometimes people write those things in the register. I…I can get the one out that covers the time in question, if you’d like to look through it.”

“Please.” Victor waited impatiently as she dug around in the back of the desk and then pulled out a large black ledger.

“Here you go, sir,” she said, continuing to eye him with trepidation. Then another guest appeared, and she busied herself with him while Victor opened the book with a shaking hand and started examining the dates. He didn’t know when Yuuri had arrived, and he found himself scanning through numbers and names until they began to blur together.

“Any luck, sir?” the woman asked when she finished with the guest.

“Not yet.” Victor ran his forefinger down the entries, page after page. Then, next to the 15th of September, 1881, he read: “Yuuri Katsuki. Wyoming Territory.” There was no further address. His finger stopped, then brushed across the writing in a caress. “You’re still there, somewhere,” he whispered.

He told the woman he would take a room in the hotel.

***

The next morning, on his way to the livery, Victor sent a telegram to Chris at the Circle C:

HE CAME HERE LOOKING FOR ME BUT I MISSED HIM. DID YOU SEND HIM HERE? DO YOU KNOW WHERE HE IS?

He knew Chris was still at the ranch, or had been the last time they’d communicated. Though by necessity it had to be on rare occasions, and Victor made sure he included as little personal information as possible, in case the messages were viewed by unfriendly eyes.

The wait for the response felt interminable, even though it was only a few days. Victor was living out of his hotel room, unsure what his next move should be, and thinking every time he went downstairs to the dining room or lobby that Yuuri had been there just a few days before. What had he been doing? Thinking? Chosen off the menu? _Come on, Victor, it’s not like you’re getting obsessive or anything._ He cancelled his appearance at the rodeo, knowing he would not be able to concentrate. He didn’t know how he could expect to make wise decisions in this state, either, and wished he had someone like Chris here to talk to, right now, to help him and listen to his ideas, and tell him if they were stupid or unrealistic or dangerous. Jonah was all he had, and that had turned out to be not very much.

The reply from Chris was disappointing, but it warmed Victor’s heart just to receive a few words from him, and know for sure that he was still at the ranch.

IF HE SHOWS HIS FACE HERE AGAIN WHICH I DOUBT THEN YOU WILL BE THE FIRST I TELL. DO NOT COME HERE TOO DANGEROUS STILL. YOU DONT KNOW HOW MUCH I BRIBED THIS CLERK TO SHUT HIS TRAP ABOUT THESE MESSAGES. YEAH IM TALKING ABOUT YOU. WHAT OF IT.

Trust the man to find humor in the darkest situation. Victor guffawed. And realized he hadn’t laughed, and felt a genuine emotion behind it, for some time.

But how, he wondered, had Yuuri known to look for him here, if he hadn’t been back to the ranches? Did anyone else know Victor was here – and if so, how? Odder still, Yuuri had resorted to putting an ad in the paper, as if he hadn’t been certain _where_ in the city Victor was; and he seemed to have given up looking after a week or so. It was a mystery.

He went through his tasks that day at the livery mechanically, deflecting all questions he was asked about his peculiar mood, as he had done since he’d seen Yuuri’s message. He needed to digest what Chris had told him, and think about what he himself knew and what his options were. Instead of riding Luchik that afternoon, he took a walk along the riverfront under the bright sun, watching the riverboats puff smoke into the air as they went past and stevedores rushing around like bees in a hive. He bought a bottle of beer from the Wiedersehen Bierhaus, and a piece of apple strudel from a bakery, and stood briefly in a little park to watch the brown water flow past, wondering if this was one of the last times he would look upon it.

He’d visited cities in Russia and Europe; but apart from having disembarked in New York on his initial journey here, this was the only American city he’d been to. It had been a shock to the system after living all that time on ranches out west near the mountains. Now, what with making this tenuous connection to Yuuri, and contacting Chris, he couldn’t help but recall those last terrible days in and around Larkspur – the very thing he’d constantly resisted since he’d lived through them. This was hardly the most comforting place to think about it, but maybe watching the river wasn’t so bad after all. Its inexorable flow seemed to mirror the unstoppable pace of time – and that had perhaps removed him far enough now for him to be able to revisit those events without fear of it shattering him to pieces.

He started with those last few minutes with Yuuri in the grotto. He’d been asleep, yes, but he was sure the peace and warmth he’d felt were real just the same. How could they have been seen there, of all places? That stupid clueless boy. Sam, wasn’t it? Never mind; it didn’t matter anymore. His mind ghosted over being taken to jail, while he had indulged in a growing certainty that they would get off as lightly as the last male couple who had been caught, and simply be allowed to leave the town. He was even tempted, privately, to feel thankful that something had prompted the need for action, though of course he wouldn’t have wished for it to happen that way. Yuuri seemed to be content to carry on with things as they were, though Victor found it hard to contemplate spending another winter together on the ranch with the kinds of frustrations they’d had to put up with. And he wasn’t sure what Yuuri had gone through himself exactly, but that first winter they were together before they’d become a couple hadn’t been easy either, with those feelings of unrequited desire; and Yuuri, as it turned out, being oblivious, because he’d forgotten he’d seduced Victor in the first place. It was still funny in a way, when you thought about it; but Victor had been well and truly ready to live somewhere that offered privacy for himself and his love. It occurred to him then, for the first time, that perhaps he should have explained to Yuuri how much it really meant to him. Though he wasn’t sure if putting pressure on him like that would have helped.

Well, none of it mattered now. It had been a false sense of security he’d felt, right up to the moment the posse had come to drag him out of jail and lynch him. This last thought struck him like a heavy blow to his gut. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. _I don’t need to think about that part. There’s no point. I didn’t think I’d live through it, but I did. Thanks to Yuuri and Phichit and the others._ No sight had ever been more welcome than the two of them racing over to his rescue on their horses. He really had believed they were going to get away.

What happened next wasn’t any easier to think about. He sipped at his beer and focused on the river for a moment, then allowed his mind to drift back again. The gunshots. They’d been so intent on outrunning the stampede, heading toward town, that they hadn’t expected any of the members of the posse to still be around. That was a very unwelcome surprise. The next thing Victor had been aware of was blinding pain erupting in the upper part of his chest. His vision went dark, and he’d temporarily lost control of his faculties. From somewhere far away, as if he were under a deep lake looking up to the surface, he was aware of slipping off Luchik and falling to the ground.

An incongruous sense of calm had settled upon him in the midst of the surrounding chaos. He could easily have stayed where he was and fallen into the pleasant sleep that was beckoning to him. But, again as if from a great distance, he heard Yuuri calling him. And some sliver of consciousness to which he still had access told him that if he didn’t pull himself toward it, it was the last time he would ever hear it, and his fall into oblivion would be complete. He had no idea how much time he lay there, but it felt much longer than it must in reality have been, while he dragged himself toward the light above the water, ever reaching for it but never quite attaining it.

Then he felt something rootling through his hair. Luchik’s muzzle. Hot air from the horse’s nostrils puffed onto him, and he heard a snort above the growing din of the cattle. This was it – his last chance. With a mind that felt full of cotton wool, and arms that were like lumps of lead, he grabbed the handholds on his trick saddle and lifted himself just enough so that he could cling to the bottom. Unable to move his lips to give Luchik the usual signal, he patted his side with his hand. Needing no more urging, with the stampede upon them, Luchik sprang into a gallop and streaked away, with Victor struggling to keep his handholds as he began to slip in and out of consciousness. He was vaguely aware of the cries and screams of other men fading away behind him.

Things were disjointed in his memory after that for a while. He woke up on the ground, lying next to Luchik. He must have finally blacked out and fallen. But his beloved horse had managed to get them to safety, wherever that was. A nondescript place surrounded by rolling hills, small copses of trees, and no sign of town. Luchik stood still and calm while Victor used him to pull himself up to a standing position, noticing before anything else that his shirt was sodden with blood, and he was still bleeding from a wound near his left collarbone. He didn’t think he had anything in his saddlebags that he could use to tie around his chest to stem it. That was the first priority, then – if he didn’t get medical attention, he was going to die. And he couldn’t seek it in Larkspur; not when the doctor himself could have been part of the lynch mob, for all he knew. He would have to get to the next town along and see the doctor there. If he could survive that long.  

Somehow he managed to climb onto Luchik, though he felt dizzy and pain ripped through his chest and shoulder. Everything started to go dark again, and that oasis of calm he’d previously visited beckoned to him once more. He willed himself to stay conscious as he guided Luchik up a nearby hill to get his bearings, if he could. Once there, he could see Larkspur in the distance, and realized that his best hope would be to find the road to Bear Creek. It shouldn’t be far away, if his sense of direction hadn’t failed him.

He couldn’t remember much about the journey. He hadn’t, to his knowledge, met a soul on the narrow road, and it soon grew dark; he’d had to dig a lantern out of his bag and sling it onto Luchik’s saddle. The chill of the evening air and the breeze across his face kept him awake, though he was slumped forward in his saddle with his fingers threaded tight through his horse’s mane as he fought off the pain and exhaustion. When he’d arrived at the doctor’s surgery and slipped down from Luchik, he could barely stand, and was shaking all over. The doctor, whose face expressed shock and concern when he took in the sight of his unexpected night-time visitor, hurried him inside and operated immediately.

It turned out, he was told when he awakened from the anesthesia, that the bullet hadn’t pierced any organs, but it had damaged an artery near his collarbone, which was why he’d lost so much blood. It had been removed, and a bandage wrapped around his upper body. It was also fortunate, apparently, that he had a taste for expensive shirts, as the silken material his was made from was less likely to have introduced infection to the wound than an ordinary cotton shirt. Even so, the doctor insisted that he stay for a couple more days, to recover and make sure that there had indeed been no infection. Victor feared he was a poor patient, having been extremely anxious about Yuuri, as well as Phichit and Chris and the others; but he also saw the sense in doing as he was told, so that when he left he would actually be able to do whatever needed to be done without collapsing.

What that was, it took him a while to decide. His instinct was to chase after Yuuri, but he had no idea where to start looking for him – assuming that he hadn’t been captured or killed. The very thought hurt more than the bullet wound. He could see no other option: he would have to go back to one of the ranches and speak to someone there who was likely to know what had happened in the aftermath of the stampede, and where Yuuri was. He himself was now a fugitive, he realized, and being spotted by anyone at all could prove disastrous. It was a risk he had to take, however, and he would just have to go slow and be as surreptitious as possible.

At least he knew his way to and around the Circle C. He left Luchik in an outbuilding where no one was likely to come across him, then stole to the stable and hid behind a stack of hay bales until he saw Chris come in, at which point he gave a soft whistle. When Chris turned and spotted him leaning around the bales and gesturing, you would have thought he’d seen a ghost. Under different circumstances, Victor would have found it amusing.

“Jesus, Mary an’ Joseph, you’re _alive_ ,” Chris breathed as they stood in the dim, quiet corner. “How – ”

“Never mind that now. Where’s Yuuri?”

Chris stared at him, open-mouthed.

“ _Where_ , Chris?” Victor demanded, putting a frantic hand on his shoulder.

“I…I don’t know. Honest to god, pard, I don’t.” And he looked truly distraught by the fact. “But,” he hastened to add as Victor felt himself fill with trepidation, “I know he weren’t killed by no stampede. He an’ Phichit managed to git outa there in time. Phichit said somethin’ to him, an’ he rode off by himself, an’ the rest of us rode back to our ranches afore we was caught an’ questioned about what we done. There…there was a mess, Victor. Men an’ animals killed. But I think Phichit might be able to tell ya what ya need to know.”  

Victor sighed and dropped his hand. “All right. I…I’ll go visit him at the Rafter T.”

“Now hang on a minute. You been gone for several days. By my reckonin’, we both have stories to tell. Surely you got a little time to sit with me afore you go?”

“I don’t know, Chris.” Victor swallowed. “I just want to find Yuuri. I need to know he’s OK.”

“A few more minutes won’t make no difference, sure.”

“I…OK.” He put a hand to his forehead and fought off a wave of dizziness.

“You don’t look so good. You’re even paler than usual. I could go to the cook shack and get ya some vittles, if it’d help.”

“No…I couldn’t eat anything.” He gave Chris a faint grin. “Thanks just the same.”

“Here.” Chris dragged a hay bale over to Victor. “Sit on this; you look like you need it. An’ tell me how the hell you’re still walkin’ an’ talking on this earth.”

Victor obliged, ending his narrative with how he’d decided he needed to find someone at one of the ranches who could tell him what he needed to know. “I’m glad you and the others are OK,” he said. “You risked your lives to save me.”

“We thought it was all for naught. I’m right glad to see ya, Victor.”

“It’s good to see you, too.” Victor gave him another faint grin. “Though it may be the last time for a while. It’s not going to be safe here for me or Yuuri anymore.”

“You got that right. I don’t suppose you knew we had ta break Yuuri outa his own house. Well, his parents’ house. They’d locked him in his room an’ boarded up his window so he couldn’t get out. I dunno what they was plannin’ for him, but I doubt it was anythin’ Yuuri would’ve liked.”

“What?” An angry spark rose in Victor’s eyes. “ _Ublyudok_.”

“I ain’t heard you say that before, but my guess is it’s nothin’ good.”

“Thank you for getting him out of there.”

“It was a pleasure.” He told Victor about returning to the Circle C, and all the gossip that had been going around the ranch. A deputy had come to speak to him about his part in events, but had not arrested him. It looked like the whole episode was going to blow over, at least as far as he, Phichit, Zach and Jeff were concerned. “But it ain’t gonna be the same with you two gone,” he added. “Not the same at all. I’m gonna miss ya.” He sniffed.

Victor stood and hugged him. “I’ll miss you too.” And he realized just how much he meant it.

“Look, stay in touch, willya? I know it’ll be hard, ’cause messages can be intercepted. But you an’ me are smart, ain’t we? Telegrams don’t have to give any more detail than what’s necessary. An’ there’s the mail, an’ messages sent privately if it comes to that. If ya can’t find Yuuri straightaway for whatever reason, I’m happy to pass information on to ya from here – or I can pass stuff about you on to him if he shows up. I…think I’ll be stickin’ around for some time yet. Me an’ Zach, we’re doin’ all right here.”

“Thank you, my friend.” Victor gave him a long, searching look before going, committing his features to memory and silently wishing it wasn’t necessary to leave one of the best friends he’d ever had.

When he finally managed to get Phichit alone in the stable at the Rafter T – which had been more difficult, as Victor was not as familiar with the ranch, had needed to search out a good place to hide Luchik, and was not aware of the best places of concealment on the way to the stable or within the building itself – he met with another reaction of shock. Victor wasn’t surprised when he was asked to recite the story of his survival again, as they stood in the shadows in an empty corner stall; and he reassured Phichit that Chris had told him the details of what had happened after the stampede.

“…apart from where Yuuri went,” he finished. This was the first time he’d asked during his conversation with Phichit. Victor’s meeting with Chris had put him more at ease, and instant frantic pleading for information about Yuuri was perhaps not the best way to go about this after all. However, the urgent need to be assured of Yuuri’s safety, and to be reunited with him, had still been the foremost thing on his mind. And if anyone knew Yuuri’s whereabouts, it was the person standing in front of him now.

Phichit was looking at him with an expression similar to the one he’d seen on Chris, which disturbed him. There was the continuing surprise that he was alive in the first place, mixed with anxiousness. Perhaps he didn’t know what to say to Victor, or was afraid he’d say the wrong thing, or wouldn’t be able to answer his questions.

“Yuuri shot the guy who shot you,” Phichit said after a long pause. “He was a deputy. Either the bullet killed him, or the stampede did. But, um…they were already looking for Yuuri, and that made it worse. So – ”

“Phichit,” Victor said, struggling to stay patient, “please just answer my question. Where _is_ he? Did they take him to jail?”

“Not that I know. I told him to go to the rock art cave. It’s not far from where we were – we used to hide out there sometimes when we were kids. Nobody’d think to look for him there. I told him I’d see him or send news to him the next day, and I did. I found him…” His voice trailed off and he gave Victor that look again.

 _Since when were my own friends frightened of me?_ Victor asked himself. _What is this one afraid to tell me?_ He stood quietly and waited for Phichit to continue.

“…um, he was still there, at least. But…” He seemed unsure whether or not to carry on. “…hell, Victor, I’ve never seen him so cut up in my life. He was…it was like he was a ghost or something. He hadn’t been eating or drinking much. I was really worried about him…”

Victor pressed his lips together and closed his eyes.

“…so I guess it was a good thing his mom was able to find me and give me that stake to pass on to him.”

“What stake?”

Phichit’s eyes lit up. “I’d never seen anything like it. She gave me an envelope to give him, and when he opened it, there was a big stack of cash inside – thousands of dollars, I’m sure. To help him start again somewhere else.”

Victor let out a breath. “So where is he?” he asked again.

“I…don’t know.”

Victor’s head jerked up. “What?”

More fear in Phichit’s eyes. Victor knew these people understood he was not a violent person. But he couldn’t deny he was angry. And exhausted. And in pain…in so many ways.

“There wasn’t really any time to make plans,” Phichit said quickly. “I don’t think he had any to start with, and he didn’t know he was gonna get that money from his mom, and then…um, I told him about the tracker dog – ”

“What tracker dog?”

“ – that they were sending to find him. I gave him plenty of warning, I think. If they’d found him and brought him back here, we’d know. I used to have a neighbor with one of those dogs, so I was able to give Yuuri some advice about how to keep a step ahead. But he started out right away, you know, to try to outrun the guys who were after him.”

Victor raked a hand through his hair. Christ, could this get any worse?

“I wish I could tell you more. He asked me which direction the dog was coming from. I said south, so he said he was gonna go north. That’s all.” He stood, looking at Victor, and said in what was obviously meant to be a comforting tone, “He really loves you.”

“Phichit,” Victor said on a shaky sigh, “if I keep in touch, will you let me know if he contacts you? Or tell him where I am? I…I’ll find a way, somehow, to make sure you can pass the details on.”

“Sure, Victor. Um…where _will_ you be?”

He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “Well for a start, I’m going to go north and see if I get lucky. And…if I don’t…” A tear leaked out of the other eye. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead. But I can’t come back here.”

“I’m really sorry.” Phichit looked awkward, but the sympathy in his eyes was clear.

“I am too.”

Feeling now like he was moving slowly through a nightmare, Victor rejoined Luchik. He knew he’d been taking a huge risk by visiting both ranches, and wondered what he’d gained from it. Until a few minutes ago, he’d assumed that either Chris or Phichit would tell him where Yuuri was as soon as he’d asked; that _someone_ would know at least. He hadn’t been prepared for this turn of events.

But Phichit had given him an idea, and he guided Luchik to the east to ride across the open range parallel to the path of the main road through Larkspur that eventually led out to the Great Basin. Before the road reached that far, there was a certain farmer along the way with a bloodhound whose tracking ability had proved to be second to none. Fight fire with fire, Victor thought. There were enough items in his saddlebags with Yuuri’s scent on them, he’d noticed, to hopefully suffice for the task.

Herb Morrison had gotten wind – as everyone within a wide radius probably had – of the events of the past several days. Victor wasn’t well acquainted with him, but he’d seen enough to be able to trust that the kindly farmer would not turn him over to the authorities. Herb was taken aback when Victor came calling on his doorstep, but he and his family were hospitable and sympathetic just the same. He preferred to be with Toby himself at all times when he was out on a scent, but even though he deemed it too dangerous to accompany Victor on his hunt, he was willing to lend the dog to him, and godspeed. With a set of instructions for how to put Toby on a scent and encourage him to track it, and thanks in his heart, Victor rode back west, allowing room for a beam of hope to shine into his brooding thoughts.

Phichit had told him where to find the rock art cave. That seemed like a good place to start, since Yuuri had set out from there. When Victor arrived and saw what was inside on the walls, he couldn’t help but gasp and stand in awe. It was a shame Yuuri hadn’t told him about this hidden treasure before; it would have been nice to appreciate the wonder of it together. Yuuri hadn’t bothered to try to conceal any signs that he’d been here, and Victor himself could have followed the trail he and his horse had left, at least initially. It was strange to think of Yuuri in this place not long before, as distraught as Phichit had described him.

_Now we’re both out here, alone and longing for each other in this empty land. I wish you could just hear my thoughts, baby, and know where I am, and come to me._

Toby was still his best bet for finding him, Victor reckoned. The doughty little dog had no trouble picking up the scent, and they spent a couple of days zigzagging across the terrain. Yuuri seemed to have kept mostly to the foothills of the mountains, occasionally going into deep brush or other hard-to-navigate areas, as Phichit would have advised him. The conditions out here seemed ideal; Herb had said that the scent would fade faster in warm, windy weather, but it was cool for the time of year, and a light rain fell one afternoon. So it was that when he approached the sizeable settlement of Red Rocks, Victor remained hopeful that Toby would faithfully follow the scent through it and out the other side.

But it wasn’t to be. The town was full of the most potent odors, which might have been the reason Yuuri had come through here and deliberately, it seemed, sought them out. The worst was a large chandler’s workshop, where the stench of lard being rendered into tallow made Victor nauseous as he approached. And it was here that Toby kept losing the scent. He ran back and forth, following new trails each time they returned to the workshop, but the dog didn’t seem satisfied with any of them. Victor tried taking him around other areas in the town, and spent a great deal of time exploring the streets surrounding the chandler’s. As a last resort, he located every single road that led into and out of the town, and led Toby up and down them. But in the end, he had to admit that the dog had been defeated.

As he led Luchik to drink at a creek on the way back to return Toby to his owner, Victor felt the first real stab of despair strike through his heart. All this time, he hadn’t allowed himself to give up hope; had believed every step of the way that whatever action he took would lead to success. It seemed impossible that he could lose his Yuuri like this. It was just an unfortunate series of events, surely, that could quickly be rectified.

And yet, no one seemed to know where he’d gone. He’d had several days’ start on his journey, wherever that had led him. Though he’d initially headed north as far as Red Rocks, he could have gone in any direction from there. It would even have made sense to travel into the mountains or across them, to put more obstacles between himself and his pursuers. He could also have doubled back and gone south. Victor knew Yuuri loved this land, loved the mountains; but he also had a feeling that if Yuuri had felt threatened enough, he might have decided to put a lot of distance between himself and Larkspur. After all, he likely believed Victor to be dead, so nothing remained to tie him to the place where he would be hunted as a fugitive.

As long as he’d been _doing_ something to try to achieve the result he desired, Victor had been able to shove his feelings to the side and focus on that. But there seemed to be no more possibilities open to him. There were too many places Yuuri could have gone in this huge country. It was out of his hands now, and he would have to pray that Yuuri contacted someone at one of the ranches who would be able to tell him that Victor was alive, and where to find him. Though there was no knowing if or when that would happen.

The reality of his loss was finally staring Victor full in the face, and he leaned on his saddle and cried long and hard, as if the rivulets of salt water could somehow exorcise the full agony of his grief. He’d known he’d finally found something special with Yuuri – he’d _known_ it, after all those years of searching, after all those failed relationships. And they were starting to plan a future together. All things bright and beautiful lay before them, theirs to experience. It couldn’t end this way now. It just couldn’t.             

***

Victor watched the body of the great river churn ever southward, as the breeze of the approaching evening ruffled his hair. He hadn’t meant to go so deeply into these memories; even now they seared him with a surprising intensity, as if the events had occurred only yesterday. Maybe it was because this was the first time he had allowed them to float so close back to his consciousness – which in turn had been prompted by Yuuri at last reaching across time and distance to seek contact. The slender hope that this rekindled seemed to be making it possible, now, to look at the past and finally come to terms with it, because its full horror had been dampened.      

Victor had finished his beer and strudel. Maybe it was time to switch nationalities, from this bierhaus to some Guinness at his favorite Irish pub. In fact, he felt like getting knock-down drunk. But he also knew that it was a poor approach to dealing with these past and present dilemmas. They would be still there in the morning anyway, plus a hangover.

And _bozhe moi_ , how the alcohol flowed here. There were dozens of breweries. Enough to keep every ranch hand in Wyoming happy for the rest of their lives. Victor hadn’t felt such a compulsion to travel a great distance and experience something so completely new since his parents had died. This was the largest city this side of the Mississippi, and he’d wanted to find out what it was like to live here. Have some blessed privacy away from bunkhouses. Meet people who would never travel further west, let alone set foot on a ranch. Have culture and civilization and creature comforts to hand. Though it was hard to resist the pull of the familiar too. Victor was a horseman, through and through, and so he had looked for such work and found it at a livery stable near the riverfront. He could keep Luchik there, ride him and still take him to rodeos, and do the jobs he knew how to do with his eyes shut. The pay wasn’t anything to shout about, but he could still draw on his inheritance when he needed to, and he’d been frugal enough to ensure that it had lasted.

He had still clung to some hope – which faded daily, but was there all the same – that he would somehow be reunited with Yuuri. In fact, Victor knew that he could live to be ninety and still reserve a little area in his heart for that hope, which forever refused to die. In a way that made it harder, though, because he could never fully accept the fact that Yuuri was gone, lost entirely. No matter what happened in this place, no matter who Victor was with, he knew he would drop it all in a heartbeat to run to Yuuri, if he only knew where he was. 

In truth, he’d been with a lot of men here; a fact he was not proud of. At some point soon after he’d arrived in the city, and was luxuriating in having a small but private place all of his own for the first time in his life, he’d reverted to his old habit of allowing himself to be collected. Initially, it might only take a handsome man with a nice smile to tempt him, to his place or Victor’s. It was sex, and warmth, and someone to be with, even if only for a night. But deep down he knew he’d already learned his lesson about this; the illusions were long gone, and he was only pretending that he still believed in them. Those feelings he craved from the encounters were hollow; and once the men had what they wanted from him, they found it easy to discard him. He questioned why he was doing this to himself, and eventually made himself stop. Besides, how could he have ever thought that this kind of thing could even hold a candle to what he and Yuuri had shared? And even when he’d tried again, with Jonah, that couldn’t compare either.

Maybe no one ever could. Yuuri was the most genuine person Victor had ever known. Everything Victor had experienced with other men in this city had some degree of illusion to it – some pretense, veneer, absence of trust – whereas Yuuri shone like the sun. Victor imagined his smile now, and it lit up his heart.

He could carry on and learn to stop comparing everything to the love of his life, which maybe he’d been lucky to experience even once, and could at least treasure the memories from. And then get on with things as best he could.

Or he could try to find him and get him back. Like he should have done up to his last ounce of strength years ago, when he’d lost him in the first place.

It wasn’t a difficult decision.


	55. Chapter 55

Yuuri guided Biscuit into a gallop inside the corral and slowly pulled himself up to a standing position on the back of the saddle. He was holding the extra-long reins in one hand, not having done this in a while and not wanting to try anything too drastic at first, though memories of flipping through the air from his horse’s bare back without needing to hold on to _anything_ rushed back to him and teased him with what he’d both achieved and lost. Well, even if it was only for his own pleasure – or ego – maybe he could catch something of the fun and excitement of those days again. God knew he needed something to work at besides the day-to-day ranch chores that always seemed to be the same, year in, year out. You did them one season, one year, and they would soon come around again like you’d never bothered in the first place. His trips to Chicago and St. Louis a year ago had made a change, but routines had quickly re-established themselves when he’d returned, with an added feeling of deflation courtesy of the false sense of hope Mike Tyler had implanted, however good-naturedly, in him. Knowing Victor was dead was better than convincing himself for a brief time that maybe he wasn’t, and that maybe he could find him. Something inside of him broke just a little more after that.

Sergio had been kind enough to keep up with the guitar lessons, if you could call them that, as they weren’t formal in any sense. But Yuuri could see it would take a long time to gain anything like proficiency. He couldn’t even strum a song yet to his own personal contentment, and the less said about his fingerpicking the better; though Sergio kept telling him he was too hard on himself. At least he could play, and even sing, things that Taki seemed to like.

He spotted the girl herself out of the corner of his eye as he rode along, feeling the familiar rush of excitement flow through him, and the years and cares dropping off his shoulders. She was holding Patrick’s hand, and pointed and cried out in excitement when she saw what Yuuri was doing. “Daddy!” she squealed.

“Well howdy there, partner,” he called back, tipping his Stetson and giving her a wink. She’d seen him do some trick riding in the past, though afterward when she’d enthused about it to her mother, May had explained to both of them how she felt about its dangerous nature. But damn it, she wasn’t here, and this was _fun_.

“Look at you,” Patrick said, obviously impressed. Yuuri usually did riding and lassoing tricks on his own, so that word wouldn’t get back to May, and because as the ranch owner he didn’t want the men to feel obliged to congregate and cheer him on. He didn’t need anyone being obsequious or fawning over him – which was also why he instructed everyone on the ranch to call him by his first name.

Feeling more confident now, he jumped and pirouetted in a full circle, landing squarely back on the saddle. Then he lifted one leg in front of him and held it – but ah, he was feeling the effects of not having done his stretches, ballet or gymnastics in years, and he’d definitely lost flexibility. Still, he wasn’t exactly going to try an arabesque just yet.

He carried on in this vein for a while, doing small tricks to test out his abilities and limitations, and losing his balance a few times, but not to the point where he fell off Biscuit. Patrick and Taki clapped and cheered enthusiastically. Yuuri brought Biscuit to a stop in front of them and looked down with a smile.

“I ain’t gonna express what I’m feelin’ with the language I’d like to use, owin’ to the presence of this little lady here. But why in tarnation didn’t you ever let on you could do this stuff? Where did you learn?”

“It’s a long story. And, um…May thinks I might hurt myself. But I reckon I’ll be OK if I watch what I’m doing.” He looked at Taki. “What’ve you got there?”

She held up the basket she was holding. “Eggs.”

“We went an’ fed her pony, then stopped by the henhouse,” Patrick explained.

“That gives me an idea,” Yuuri said, dismounting. “Here, give me your basket.” Taki did so, and Yuuri placed the eggs on the ground in a circle near the corral fence, spacing them evenly. “I’ll show you a good trick.” He got back on Biscuit and urged her into a gallop, then dropped down to the side of the saddle, the basket slung over his arm, and proceeded to collect every egg, placing them gently on the hay inside. There were about a dozen of them. _Yes_ , he thought to himself, _this is easy._ When he was finished, he stopped in front of his small audience again, and handed the basket back to Taki, who was looking at him with sparkling eyes.

“Didn’t break a one of ’em,” he said, letting a proud smile spread over his face.

“I’ll be a son of a gun,” Patrick said, shaking his head. “You oughta be in the rodeos, Yuuri.”

Yuuri huffed a laugh. “That’s nothing. You should see…” His voice trailed off. “I’d like to do one more thing. Here, sweetheart, come on through the gate.” Patrick opened it for her, and Yuuri led her through. “How would you like to be my volunteer?” When she nodded so hard her head looked in danger of bobbling off, he said, “Stand here near the fence. Pat, maybe you’d better come in here too and stand next to her, just to be on the safe side.”

Patrick did so, and the two of them stood and watched while Yuuri had Biscuit gallop in circles. Then on the next approach, he dropped to the side of the saddle, scooped Taki up in his arms with her white dress billowing, and placed her on top of the saddle, climbing up behind her shortly afterward and wrapping his arms around her waist. She had shrieked in surprise and delight when she’d been lifted into the air, and was now bubbling with laughter.

“Was that fun?” he said with a smile.

“Again, again!” she insisted.

“I think I might be able to manage that.”

But when he halted Biscuit next to Patrick, his heart dropped as he spotted May on the other side of the fence, an expression of outrage on her face. He lifted Taki down to the foreman, who had taken note of the new arrival and herded the little girl out of the corral to her, saying a quick goodbye and heading into the stable.

“Mommy, Mommy, did you see what Daddy did?” Taki asked, jumping up and down and pulling at May’s dress.

“Yes, dear, I saw,” she said in a low voice, eyeing Yuuri as he dismounted and came over to the fence. He rested his arms on top of it.

“She’s fine, May,” he said. “And she loved it. I wouldn’t have done it if – ”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been madder at you that I am this very moment,” she continued in the low, quiet voice, her cheeks pinking. “It’s bad enough you’re out here doing this yourself, after I told you how much it worries me. But I…I can’t believe I just saw what I saw. With our _daughter_.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“There’s no reason to put her at risk like that. All it takes is one slip, Yuuri, no matter how good you are at this. Do you want to be responsible for hurting her?”

Yuuri sighed. “Of course not.”

She stared at him. “I thought you had more sense. Why…why is it so important to you?” she asked, her voice softening.

Yuuri looked back. What should he tell her? What _could_ he tell her? “It…was an important part of my life once,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “I got out of practice. But I was good at it, and I enjoyed it, and the person who taught me…” He looked down. “He…” There was nothing more he could add; Victor was his most precious memory, and he guarded it with fierce intensity. “You know what it’s like to enjoy doing something you’re good at, don’t you?” he said, looking back up. “I need to do this once in a while. I know how you feel, but…”

Her eyes examined his. “Well if you’re going to insist on doing this damn foolish thing – ”

“Mommy, that’s a swear!” Taki gasped.

She ran a hand through the little girl’s hair. “Sorry, darling. If you’re going to do this foolish thing, Yuuri, then I don’t suppose I can stop you, though I wish you’d find something else to do that was less dangerous. But I’m going to have to put my foot down and insist that you don’t involve Taki in it again – certainly not picking her up like she’s some rag-doll prop in your one-man rodeo show.”

Yuuri looked back down. “I guess that’s fair enough.”

“Awww,” Taki said in obvious disappointment.

“You can still ride your pony,” Yuuri told her. “We’ll go out together sometime soon.”

“OK.”

“Come on,” May said to Taki, flashing one last look at Yuuri, “you can help me make dinner. Do you think you can mash the potatoes for me?”

Yuuri watched them walk in the direction of the ranch house. None of the ranch hands were around, and Patrick hadn’t emerged from the stable. He took his hat off and ruffled his hair, looking at the sky and feeling the October breeze on his face. Then he stroked Biscuit’s mane and took her to her stall, no longer in the mood to ride today.

***

“You gonna spend all day preenin’ in here, or what?” Lily, a solidly built woman in jeans and a checked shirt with her blonde hair tucked into a large Stetson, had popped her head around the flap of Victor’s tent; he was sitting inside on a fold-out wooden chair, looking into a hand mirror.

“Hm?” he said distractedly, gazing intently at the glass. “I think I’m getting some wrinkles around my eyes. And what about my hair?” He massaged the line of it along his scalp. “Does it look like it’s receding?”

“What a peacock you are,” she laughed. “I’m older than you, and I’m still goin’ strong. You ain’t got nothin’ to complain about, far as I can tell. How old are ya, anyway?”

Victor gave her a sideways look. “Such a question offends my delicate sensibilities.”

Lily guffawed. “You’re a one. OK, well, I’m fifty-two. Though I’ve been told by some that I look ten years older. That ain’t stopped me from bein’ able to split a playin’ card edge-on at thirty paces with one shot.” She gave him a good-natured smirk. “Nothin’ wrong with my peepers – I still got as good an aim as I did thirty years ago an’ more.”

“I want to see you do that,” Victor said, smiling.

“Get out here an’ do the practice session you’re booked in for, then. That’s why I come after ya. You’ll miss it if you don’t get your ass in gear.”

“OK.” Victor put the mirror down on the makeshift dresser nearby. “And I’m thirty-six. You’re going to tell me I don’t look a day over twenty-five, right?”

“Long as you tell me the same. Come on, then. Me an’ a bunch of the others wanna watch ya, anyway. You’re the best goddamn horseman we ever seen.”

Victor chatted with her on the way to the arena. It was chilly outside, being the middle of April, but he eschewed his coat, knowing he would soon warm up once he was practicing. Lily, or “Lily of the Valley,” as she was called in the troupe, was shaping up to be fun to talk to, as was her boyfriend and partner in the sharpshooting act, John “Three-fingered Jimmy” McRae. Though he’d only joined this particular outfit a few weeks ago, Victor was starting to feel more at home than anywhere he’d been since…well, since the Circle C. And that was going back a way now. Almost seven years.

When he’d sought out the odd rodeo back here in Wyoming to earn some prize money while he traveled and searched for Yuuri, he hadn’t realized “wild west” shows were coming into being; they hired the best talent they could find and moved from place to place, in contrast to the traditional rodeos that were held at the same venues, usually on an annual basis, and featured locals. The one he had joined was only small, which suited his needs, because he wanted to remain in Wyoming. But people like Lily, whose talent shone so brightly, would only use an outfit like this as a springboard to something bigger and better – and rightly so.

Still, he was glad to be doing something he loved again. Tending horses in stables was all well and good, but actually being paid to ride Luchik in front of an audience…that was different, and exciting, though it meant living an itinerant life again. But that was the reality he’d accepted since he’d left St. Louis a year and a half ago. At first, with the winter coming on, he was lucky to get work on ranches, which tended to let men go at that time of year and hire them back in the spring for the roundups. Between jobs, he made do. He knew he was fortunate in that he still had a generous amount of money in the bank, from his inheritance and Jonah’s business and the rodeos where he’d won prizes, and he drew on that when he needed to. But he avoided spending it on expensive places to stay when he could; there were usually the remains of wooden shacks or houses to be found that had belonged to settlers who had met with misfortune or simply moved away, and sometimes it didn’t take much work to make them habitable for basic needs. He honed his hunting and fishing skills, asking for help with these from men with the knowhow on ranches where he picked up odd jobs – on Sunday afternoons, it wasn’t usually hard to find someone who found it relaxing to spend his day off in these ways – and even invested in some trapping gear. He learned more about which kinds of plants to forage for, and got good at building and lighting fires.

Still, the life of the self-sufficient man didn’t appeal to him as much as it did to many others with romantic notions in their heads. It was hard, and lonely. Moving from place to place, there was no opportunity to put down roots or get to know people well. If he was staying in the middle of nowhere and hadn’t killed any animals in a while, he might not eat for a few days, until he was able to get to a settlement and refresh his rations. Sometimes, in this semi-arid land, it was hard to find water as well – and that was frustrating, as bathing in it was almost as important to Victor as drinking it. One bonus, at least, was that he reckoned he’d never been fitter. He sported tight, corded muscles and a slim, tapering waist. Even when he wasn’t traveling with a show, he made sure he practiced all of his exercises in order to stay ready and limber. That could be difficult with no apparatus, but it was usually possible wherever he was with a bit of ingenuity.

And right now he was part of Bronco Billy’s Stars of the West. When he arrived at the arena with Lily, she wished him luck and left him to do his stretches and fetch Luchik out of his stall. His costume hung from the rafter in a corner; he’d left it here last time he’d changed. It consisted of the usual neutral-colored woolen pants, shirt and vest that cowboys wore, but had been embellished with delicate patterns of bright glittering sequins. Maybe Lily had gotten the idea of a peacock from the back of the vest, because Victor thought it resembled the feathers fanning out. It was ostentatious, and he loved it; though he still had his Cossack costume with the red shirt and wore that on occasion too.

His practice session went well; he was aware that he was still a novelty to these people, and a little audience gathered around to watch as he did his gymnastics on Luchik’s back. He’d chosen to continue using the trick saddle for the time being, so that he could lever himself around and under his horse; but he had routines for bareback riding as well that he could do if the mood struck him. The owner of the show, “Bronco Billy” McLaughlin, had promised to look into getting some kind of musical accompaniment for him. Performing with Yuuri all that time ago to the soft swell of the violin had been almost otherworldly; he could still hear it in his head now. Though maybe audiences of the type that would pay to see a show like this would prefer something more like what they’d get at a square dance; which of course he would be happy to oblige them with.

When he was finished, he sat on a wooden bench and watched Lily and Jimmy. “Hey, Amazing Alexei,” Lily called over to him, “why dontcha come over here an’ give us a hand.”

Why not? He got up, went to the gate, let himself into the area, and walked over to them. “It’s Victor,” he said.

“Huh?” Lily grunted as she fished in the side pocket of her jeans.

“Victor. I needed something that started with an ‘A’ to go with ‘Amazing.’ ”

“Well that seems suitable, seein’ as how I bet you won every ridin’ contest at every rodeo you ever been to.”

He chuckled. “The two of you are just as good at what you do.”

“I got some, Lily. You think the man wants ta put somethin’ in his mouth that’s been sittin’ in your pocket?”   

Lily and Victor both snickered. “You’re filthy,” she said as he handed a packet of cigarettes to her.

“Three-fingered Jimmy” was aptly named, Victor saw. He was missing the ring finger and pinky from his right hand, though presumably that didn’t interfere with him being able to aim a gun and pull the trigger. Jimmy was shorter than Lily, and stockier, with thick brown hair streaked with grey on the sides, deep green eyes, and cheeks covered with brown freckles. A scar about four inches long ran down the side of his face; it was rose-colored and made an indentation in his skin like a ravine. Like many people out here whom he came across, Victor knew this pair would have an interesting story to tell. He would be sure to buy a bottle or two from whatever town this was and see if they were interested in talking into the night.

Lily pulled a cigarette out of the box and gave it to Victor. “If you’ll be our assistant, we can both get in some target practice.” When his eyes widened, she added, “You seen us shoot. We don’t miss. Though if you ain’t got the stomach for it…”

“Go on,” Victor said, rising to the bait because it would be a bit of a thrill if nothing more – and from what he’d seen of these two, it looked like they really didn’t miss. Though perhaps somebody had, if Jimmy had been their assistant, he thought, looking again at his hand with the missing digits. “Um, what do you want me to do?”

“Stick it in your mouth, for a start,” Lily said, and he did. She lit the cigarette with a match. “John an’ me are gonna take turns shootin’ the ashes off the end.”

“ _Ohooiet_ ,” Victor breathed around the cigarette. “How many times have you tried this?”

“Lots,” Jimmy said nonchalantly.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. They watched him with amusement as he held the cigarette and took a deep drag, sucking the fumes into his lungs as he hadn’t done since he was a teenager, and then coughed, smoke puffing out of his nostrils. His head began to buzz slightly.

“Just stay still an’ you’ll be absolutely fine, I guarantee it,” Jimmy said with a chuckle. “OK, I’ll count down from three. Three…two…”

Victor closed his eyes, wondering if this might be the stupidest thing he’d ever done.

There was a bang, followed by a sharp metallic odor. Then Jimmy was laughing. Victor opened his eyes and saw that the end of his cigarette had been shot away. “I’ll be damned,” he whispered, then chuckled himself and sucked on the cigarette again, just because it was there.

He stood still and allowed them to shoot a few more times, then decided the cigarette was burning uncomfortably short and he rather liked his lips intact, thank you very much. Feeling more comfortable with their remarkable degree of skill, however, he held playing cards up for them to shoot at, and tossed some coins into the air. By the time they were finished, Victor had a ridiculous smile on his face. Somehow he felt like he was ten years old again and had just done something delightfully wicked. 

Saying goodbye for now, he returned to the stable, where some of the other horsemen asked him if he would show them a little of what he knew. He was used to this, and was normally happy to do so, but they were only putting on a couple of shows in this place and he had to make some time to go into the town and put some feelers out, as he always did. At least Yuuri was distinctive in name in appearance; there weren’t many Japanese cowboys around, and Victor presumed he was still engaged in that work in some capacity. He kept his hopes burning high in his heart, though doubts had begun to creep in more frequently – about whether Yuuri was still in Wyoming, and whether Victor would ever find him even if he was, or if he was fated to live out his days in this odd nomadic existence until he was too old to do any more trick riding or ranch work. He’d had no desire to seek out another man’s bed since he’d left St. Louis – not that the opportunity readily presented itself anymore out here – because Yuuri was all he wanted, and he was going to find him. That was what he kept telling himself.

What was the name of this place? he wondered as he rode into the middle of the town, mentally preparing himself to begin the usual round of questions in saloons, hotels, the sheriff’s office, restaurants and stores and so on. Ah – the sign above the general store soon gave him the answer. The Clearwater Mercantile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a few small liberties with history here, regarding wild west shows. The first was Buffalo Bill Cody’s, formed in 1883, originally performed in Omaha but eventually touring across the world, and featuring stars such as Wild Bill Hickok, Annie Oakley (on whom ‘Lily of the Valley’ is loosely based), and Calamity Jane. Other shows followed the success of this one. So Bronco Billy’s Stars of the West is a few years before its time, and such a show would probably not have confined itself to the sparsely populated Wyoming Territory (though Cody himself was instrumental in founding a town there in 1895 that was named after him). It is interesting to note, however, that Buffalo Bill’s show actually did feature Cossack trick riders from Georgia, who had been scouted out in their home country; they first joined when the show toured England in 1892, and went along with it to the U.S. the following year. Through their influence, trick riding became a part of western rodeos.


	56. Chapter 56

Well, one place was as good as another to start with. He found himself near the sheriff’s office, and there was a hitching rail handy outside, so he tied Luchik there and pushed open the door.

“Help you?” Sheriff Atkinson asked. He was sitting with his legs propped on his desk, smoking a cigar and reading a magazine. His eyes narrowed as he took in Victor’s appearance. “Ain’t seen you before, but I’m guessin’ you’re one of them folk from the carnival, from the look of ya.”

Victor glanced down at himself and wondered what had given him that impression, since he was wearing his cowboy clothes. “It’s a wild west show, not a carnival,” he corrected him.

“All the same to me. So whaddya want?”

_Nice_ , Victor thought acidly. “I’m looking for someone, and I was hoping you could help me.”

“I know most folks in this town, so go on, fire away.” He puffed on his cigar and Victor tried not to cough.

“A man by the name of Yuuri Katsuki; might like to be called Taylor too. He – ”

“Oh yeah, sure, I know ’im. Jap guy.”

Victor gave a start and stared. “You…you know him?”

“Ain’t many people around with that name, are there? Hard to forget. Comes here pesterin’ me from time to time about rustlers. Owns the Star an’ Bar ranch a couple miles north of town. Go out on the main road a ways an’ you’ll see the sign for the spread on your right.”

Victor was aware that he was goggling, with his jaw hanging open. He tried to find words but they wouldn’t come.

“Anythin’ else you need?” Atkins asked. “’Cause otherwise, I’m kinda busy here, as you can see.”

“Um…no. Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.” He touched the brim of his Stetson and opened the door, hearing something that sounded like “Goddamn crazy foreigners” before it shut behind him.

He just stood on the porch outside the little office, feeling like he’d been struck by lightning. Or at least this was how he imagined it must feel. A strange, shivery electric wave moved through him, and his eyes were still bulging in shock. He lifted a hand to his mouth and let out a shaky breath, tears springing to his eyes. Then bemused laughter bubbled softly from his throat, and he smiled like a drunken idiot.

“Luchik,” he said, untying the rope from the hitching post, “can you believe it? He’s here! Yuuri! We’ve found him!”

He looked up and down the main street with eyes that felt entirely new, as if seeing it all for the first time. Yuuri owned a ranch here! How wonderful. And he must come into this town sometimes. It looked similar to Larkspur. What was his favorite saloon? Did he like to go to any of the restaurants? Maybe he still had a cup of hot cocoa at one of these places. Victor would buy him as many as he wanted. They had so much catching up to do.

He laughed again, and his shoulders shook as the tears streamed down his face. But it wouldn’t do to have people staring at him as he rode back through town. He wiped his cheeks and eyes and then his nose with a handkerchief and mounted Luchik, patting the horse’s neck as he took the reins. When was the last time he’d cried like this through sheer happiness? It must have been years.

It would probably be a poor decision to ride out to Yuuri’s ranch – what a beautiful name, the Star and Bar – in this state, he decided. He needed to calm down and try to string some thoughts together about what to say and do next. And there was the wild west show, too, though it was going to be hard to concentrate on that. There was a performance tomorrow afternoon, and one more the following day, and then they would be breaking camp and heading to the next town. Well, the rest of them would. Victor knew he was under contract, but finding Yuuri like this had suddenly thrown everything up into the air.

He would go back to his tent and think. Focus tomorrow on the performance. And afterward, he would seek out the Star and Bar – and his Yuuri.

***

The performance wasn’t one of his best, not by any stretch of the imagination. A couple of wobbles, a move missed or forgotten. But that was judging by Victor’s standards, not everybody else’s, and fortunately there was quite a difference. The missteps would not be noticed; and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually fallen off Luchik, not in front of an audience, but he wasn’t going to start today. He gave his crowd-pleasing smile when he was done, dismounted, and led Luchik to the side of the corral while the arena was being prepared for the next act. Sometimes it was fun to chat briefly with people in the audience. He wondered if Yuuri was here somewhere, and had cast his eyes around, but hadn’t spotted anyone trying to make his way through the crowd to see him. Was this the kind of thing he would come to watch?

A little press of children stood in front of him, wide-eyed and smiling, telling him how amazing he was, and how did he do those things? Hard work and practice, he said, though he didn’t add that it helped if it seemed to come naturally to you as well. He changed the subject and asked them about their own horses and riding, and if they’d been to any other rodeos or wild west shows. Nothing they said was surprising or unusual, but he’d come to love the guileless enthusiasm of kids. He thought he might even enjoy teaching them some of what he knew one day, if he got the opportunity.

“You’re a little one – is this your first wild west show?” he said to a dark-haired girl in a buttercup-yellow dress.

She nodded, clasping her hands in front of her and smiling shyly.

“Me an’ Max brought her here with us,” one of the boys next to her explained. “Her mom an’ dad was busy, an’ she was real upset ’til we said she could come with us. You love ridin’, dontcha?” he said to her.

She nodded again. “I been ridin’ since I was two,” she said quietly, with a smile.

“And how old are you now?” Victor asked.

“Four and a half.”

“You’ll be a real pro soon, at the rate you’re going,” he laughed.

“You should see her dad ride,” the boy said. “We seen him do some of the stuff you do – didn’t we, Max?”

Max nodded. “Standin’ on his saddle an’ stuff. He said he wanted to come see the show, but he’s got things goin’ on with the cattle – calving, I think he said.”

“Yeah, that was it.”

Victor thought for a moment, then looked again at the little girl. She was as pretty as a picture, with bright, intelligent brown eyes. Possibly part Chinese…or Japanese? “Can I ask what your name is?” he said gently to her.

“Taki Katsuki,” she responded.

“Katsuki,” Victor echoed.

“Her dad’s Japanese,” Max said. “He runs a ranch.”

“Yuuri Katsuki. The Star and Bar,” Victor ventured.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Max confirmed. “You heard of him?”

Victor swallowed. “You could say that.” He rested a hand on the fence. “And your mom – ”

“Her name’s May,” Taki answered. “She doesn’t like Daddy doing the trick riding though. She says it’s dangerous.” She giggled. “He did it with me one time and she got real mad.”

“I see. Well, I’d better get out of the way here so the next act can, um, come on. It was…nice meeting you,” Victor said to the three children. His mind had gone blank, and his stomach felt like it had fallen through the floor. “Um, look…” he suddenly added, “…we’re doing another show tomorrow. I can tell the doorman to let the three of you in for free, if you’d like to come again. And then I’ll give you a tour of the place. You can ride my horse if you want, too.”

They loved the sound of that, and Victor led Luchik along the edge of the arena to the gate, where he let himself through and went to the stable. Once in the stall with Luchik, he leaned against his horse’s sleek white neck and stared vacantly.

He had a daughter.

He had a _wife_.

These were the only thoughts that would allow themselves into his head. He had no idea how long he stood there, unmoving, numb. The distant sounds from the arena drifted to his ears – the emcée, the cheers of the crowd. It was just so much meaningless noise. He wondered whether, if he was cut, he would bleed. It felt like there was nothing inside to come out.

“Luchik,” he whispered, lacing the fingers of one hand into his mane as if tethering himself to reality. “I…don’t believe it. What am I going to do?”            

***

HE’S HERE. HE’S MARRIED WITH A DAUGHTER.

…

I’M SO SORRY.

Chris had been quick in replying to the telegram this time. The troupe was packing away and taking down their tents. Victor still felt as if he were moving in a daze, and his body and brain didn’t want to respond. The second show he’d done could probably qualify as the most difficult in his life; he’d had to dig deep to force himself to go out there and focus enough on what he was doing to make a passable impression. Inside, something was screaming. No, that wasn’t true…it had screamed at first, briefly. Then the life had been choked out of it.

At least his quick thinking in the face of disaster had brought Taki with her two chaperones to the second performance; and, true to his word, Victor had enjoyed spending some time with them afterward. He introduced them to some of the other performers and let them take turns sitting on Luchik while he guided them around the arena, careful not to let slip his horse’s real name or his, in case word got back to Yuuri or anyone else on his ranch. He had this time, if nothing more, to learn something of the beautiful girl Yuuri had brought into the world – the only child he had, apparently. He saw that she was quick-witted, bold and stubborn, speaking her mind to the two older boys with her. They, in turn, seemed to be almost comically cowed by her strong – even imperious, at times – personality. Though with Victor she remained quiet and demure, smiling happily, her cheeks rosy.

_I wish I could spend a proper amount of time getting to know you,_ he thought as he led her on Luchik. _You’re just as amazing as your father. I can see him in your face now. And in the grace of your movements._

Once they’d gone, he realized he had some choices to make, and quickly.

Why hadn’t he considered this possibility? All the time he’d been looking for Yuuri, he’d assumed it was simply a question of finding him. And once he did…there would be fireworks. They would ride off into the sunset together. What have you. And it had seemed like a safe assumption, since Yuuri had come to St. Louis seeking him out.

But Taki had already been…what, three years old at the time? What if Yuuri had been happily married, and simply wanted to do some catching up with Victor; let him know he was OK, and find out how he was doing himself? Like a couple of old-timers reminiscing about the good ol’ days.

No, surely that was wrong. Surely. If there was anything he’d never doubted, it was Yuuri’s love. You didn’t feel that way about someone and then be able to just…stop, like blowing out a match. Even if you wanted to. Surely?

But it fit the pattern of Victor’s life so well, he thought. Everyone always left him. It had taken him a while to trust that Yuuri wouldn’t, too. But in the end he had.

_Not because he wanted to. He thought I was dead. What should I have expected him to do, spend the rest of his life pining away for me?_

Well, one thing was clear: Victor’s search for him was at an end. And it was a very different end from the one he’d envisaged.

***

The notes from Yuuri’s guitar lilted and flurried. This was hard. But it was getting to be more fun and satisfying all the time, as he put his mind to it and learned. He’d been doing less of the trick riding lately and more of this, since Sergio had decided to find a project for them both to work on. He’d known of a composer originally from Florence, Matteo Carcassi, who had performed and taught all over Europe, and had been able via a network of contacts to obtain copies of the tablature of many of his works. To Yuuri’s surprise and consternation – it frequently seemed like he could associate with a person for a long time without actually knowing much about them – he’d assumed Sergio was nothing more than a talented singing cowboy, when it turned out he’d had some years of formal musical training in Italy. He taught Yuuri how to read tablature, and together they practiced Carcassi’s method for guitar and his etudes. Yuuri thought he’d never heard anything so beautiful. The music, when played properly, was wistful, lively, bittersweet, romantic. Victor would have loved it, he felt sure.

He adjusted his glasses and peered at the music booklet on the stand next to him, then started playing again. Most of this song he had down to memory, but not quite all of it. He thought it must be annoying for May to have to listen to him stop and start, and practice the same passages several times over, but if it was she didn’t say anything. She was sitting on a wooden chair with a pile of sewing in her lap, while Taki lay on the bearskin rug in front of the fire, gazing at the flames and looking half-asleep. They’d finished dinner about half an hour ago.

When the kettle in the kitchen began to whistle, May put her sewing down and jumped up. “I’ll get that,” she said, disappearing through the door.

Yuuri continued to pick at notes. He was lost in the music. Until a crash came from the direction of the fireplace, followed by a scream. He dropped the guitar and dashed across the room, to discover that Taki hadn’t been as sleepy as he’d thought. She’d obviously attempted to stir the fire to life, as attested by the poker that was lying on the bearskin rug. A couple of logs had been dislodged from their position on the grate and tumbled off onto the rug, where they had singed large holes and were in danger of setting the floorboards underneath alight. Smoke rose up, and the room was full of the stink of burning fur.

“Holy shit,” Yuuri breathed, grabbing the largest pair of tongs and lifting one glowing log, then the other, and tossing them back onto the fire. By now May had run into the room, and was leaning over and hugging a weeping, frightened Taki.

“You know you’re not supposed to touch things around the fire,” May admonished her, stroking her hair back. “This is the kind of thing that can happen.”

“I didn’t _mean_ to,” Taki wailed, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I was just trying to help.”

“Did you get burned anywhere?”

“I…I don’t think so.” Taki sniffled.

“Well I don’t think there’s been any harm done,” Yuuri said, coming over to join them. “But your mom’s right, Taki – that wasn’t a very smart thing to do. The floor’s OK, but the rug’s shot.” He stared at the smoking holes in the bearskin, crusted black around their edges.

“We’re going to have to get rid of that thing,” May observed, standing up straight. “I don’t think we have anything else we can put there, though. And with it being October, we’ll want that fire in here most evenings now.”

Yuuri folded his arms across his chest, continuing to look at the ruined rug. “We need something to protect the floorboards.” He paused. “Why don’t you make a rag rug?”

“I don’t have enough bits and pieces to make one big enough. Couldn’t you…” She gave him a beseeching look. “Couldn’t you go hunting and bring back a new bearskin?”

His face clouded. “There’s never any guarantee when you go hunting that you’ll bring anything back, May.”

“I know, but – ”

“And the bears will be going into their dens to hibernate about now.” He stroked his chin. “Besides, if I did manage to shoot one, I’d have to skin it, then stretch and dry the hide; it’d take a while.”

She gave him a sweet smile. “Then the sooner the better, don’t you agree?” 

***

So the next day Yuuri set out with Biscuit, his saddlebags, and a big leather bag into which he would put the bearskin, if indeed he could hunt down a bear and skin it in the field. There was no way he’d be able to transport the bear itself all that way. He had a couple of good sharp knives on him, plus his rifle.

He hoped he would only have to go out into the foothills; it would be dangerous to travel much further into the mountains at this time of year, as there would be a growing threat of snow. The morning had been bright, sunny, and mild when he’d left; but now, just before noon, it had taken a turn for the worse. Steel-gray clouds had drifted across the sky as if the sun were pulling a woollen blanket over itself, and a biting wind began to kick up. Yuuri was glad he’d brought his winter coat with him, and exchanged his lighter one for that, along with a pair of gloves.

He already had misgivings about this; he didn’t like to kill animals unless it was necessary, and he wasn’t sure it was necessary for him to be out here doing this now just so that they could have a rug. He also wasn’t sure if May was aware of how dangerous it could be, either; but he supposed this was a man’s job that fell on him, like it or not. Maybe she had more faith in his ability than he did.

It was probably a good idea to have a strategy, though his simply consisted of finding places where bears were most likely to be: feeding up on scree slopes, where they could find insects; flatter areas, where they would hunt game; and rivers, where they would fish. Dens were another possibility, if he spotted any. In the meantime, he had to hope the weather held out. He had traveled as far west as he dared now.

After an hour of fruitless searching, he stopped under a rock ledge to have a quick bite to eat, then resumed the hunt. The temperature had dropped considerably, and the flurries that had started to fall had gradually grown heavier, crisscrossing each other as the wind kicked up. Yuuri didn’t mind a little snow, but if it got any worse it would probably be wise to start heading back home. He had a tent and bedroll with him – poor Biscuit was a real packhorse today – but there weren’t many ideal sheltered areas here to pitch up, and he didn’t care to get his tent blown over in a snowstorm. He also wanted to be able to find his way back down to the lower country, which would be difficult in a land blanketed with snow.

After a while, he found himself on a clifftop overlooking a frothing river. And there in the middle of the flow, standing on a rocky outcrop, was a large black bear trying to catch fish. It looked well within range of his rifle. Yuuri pulled it out of his saddlebags, readied it, took careful aim, and fired – and missed. The bear stood, looking around for the source of the noise. Yuuri aimed and fired again – and this time brought the animal down. There, simple. Now for the hard part: somehow he had to go down and pull the bear out of the water.

He put his rifle away and got back on Biscuit, leading her through the intensifying snow, zigzagging until they found their way down to the edge of the river. It wasn’t wide, but it looked fairly deep in several places, and it flowed quickly over the rocks here. He wondered for a moment if it was worth trying to walk across the ones protruding from the water to collect the bear; they would be cold and slippery. Maybe he ought to leave it and find another bear to shoot. But with the snow falling as it was, he figured he wouldn’t get a second chance before he needed to turn around and head home.

“OK, girl, I’ll see you in a minute,” Yuuri said to Biscuit, staking her out near the river. He took several minutes to examine the area near the bear, hoping to choose the safest route. Then, steeling himself, he walked out onto the rocks in the water, making sure he was well balanced before taking each new step. The dead bear wasn’t far away.

A sudden gust of icy wind almost knocked him off his feet, and he bent over and put his hands on the rock to steady himself. It was starting to look like too great a risk to take here; maybe he ought to turn around and get back onto dry ground. Was a bearskin really worth risking his life for?

Just as he was standing back up, another gust of wind assailed him, and at the same time the sole of his boot slid on the slick rock underneath him. Yuuri tried to bend over again and plant the palms of his gloves on the solid surface, but his momentum was already carrying him down the slope and toward the foaming, churning waters. With a splash, he fell down into the icy depths of the water, his heavy clothes now weighing him down. He flailed, desperately trying to swim to the surface, which wasn’t far above him; but the cold was piercing through to his bones. He could feel his thoughts starting to slip away from him, as if with approaching sleep.

_No. I’m not going to die here._ His sheepskin hat had already disappeared. He ripped his gloves off, then struggled to remove his coat, but finally pulled his arms free, and then found he was able to swim with more ease – though his limbs were going numb, and a kind of drunken haze was fast descending upon him. With one final burst of determination, he shot to the surface of the river, where the chill air acted like a slap against his face to wake him up. He forced his leaden limbs to stroke through the water until he reached the riverbank, where he pulled himself up and out, onto hard ground that was now covered in white.

_Shit, I’m wet through, and it’s freezing out here. I’ve lost my coat. I’m in big trouble._

He stood and looked around, just managing to make Biscuit out through the snow, standing where he’d staked her upriver. The snow was falling steadily now, and Yuuri was beginning to shiver as he reached her. His eyes darted around the area. There were no obvious piles of kindling that he could light for warmth in a pinch, at least nothing he could make out underneath the accumulating snow. His teeth began to chatter, and the fogginess he’d experienced in the river was beginning to descend again, making it difficult to think straight. Did he have another coat, or a blanket somewhere? Where were they?

As he dug through his saddlebags, he came across his six-shooter in his gun belt. There wouldn’t be anyone around in such a remote, lonely place, but he had nothing left to lose, so he fired all six bullets into the air in the unlikely hope that someone might hear and come looking. The shots echoed through the valley, but were curiously muffled by the falling snow. Then he found his light woolen coat and wrapped it around himself. It was better than nothing, but he was still wet and shivering uncontrollably. Even if there was a crevice or cave nearby he could shelter inside, it wouldn’t do him any good if he couldn’t warm up.

“I think maybe I’ve made one mistake too many this time,” Yuuri said through his clacking teeth to Biscuit as he leaned against her. “And all because of some stupid bear. S-silly me, huh?”

He reached down with numb, shaking fingers to unstake her. She, at least, could wander free and find her own fate, which would hopefully be happier than the one that was about to meet him. But Biscuit simply stood as she was, and Yuuri’s mind gradually faded to blankness. He was vaguely aware of wondering why his life wasn’t flashing before his eyes like some people said it did just before the end. This was more like falling into a deep sleep…the deepest he’d ever known. Falling…

Something seemed to be pulling at him – Biscuit? But she couldn’t lift him. What…?

And then oblivion took him. 

***

He was drifting on a wave, floating, meandering…Echoing voices speaking Japanese. A stagecoach, gunshots…horses. Galloping across the open range, hazy purple mountains to the west. A shining river… _Yuuri_. He was at a corral he knew well. The man riding the gleaming white horse inside was doing wonderful, impossible things. A wave of rapture suffused him at the sight of such beauty, such talent…and transformed into a wave of heat, desire, and love, because he’d made that man his, and they shared their lives, their bodies, their passions in so many things…but he was gone.

_Yuuri._

His breaths came slowly, in, out, in. He was in comfort, no longer cold. His vision swam; he thought maybe he’d opened his eyes. The room was gently lit, as if by oil lamp or a fire. Yes, there was a fire – he could hear the soft crackling and popping somewhere.

_Pozhalujsta, detka, vernis ko mne._

While he couldn’t understand the words, they comforted him. He knew that voice, the sound of that language.

_Anata…Victor…_ Was he saying it, or thinking it?

Surely his eyes were open now. And they were met with a pair of blue ones. Blue like the summer sky. Like a shimmering tarn. Like the mountains across many miles. Like…

_Victor._

Yuuri’s heart leaped. But then a voice of reason, speaking from some forgotten corner of his mind, told him he must be hallucinating, or dreaming – or even dead. And if he had just died, then being in a lovely, warm bed with Victor by his side would be a perfect vision of heaven. But no, it couldn’t be real…he was in the cold, the snow, freezing next to Biscuit. His mind was playing tricks on him. And he was exhausted.

_Vic…_

He sighed, and knew no more. 

***

The next thing he was aware of was a warm beam of sunlight shining on his face. His eyes fluttered open. Such strange dreams…Where was he? Had someone found him out there by the river after all? He was in a soft bed with white sheets; that felt real. He held up a hand and wiggled his fingers. Real enough. And no longer numb.

There were windows in the log wall next to him, and protruding underneath them were boards that were obviously meant to be sills. And they were full of knick-knacks. Yuuri peered closer. They looked…familiar. Little wooden carvings. Like he used to make, when he’d started whittling. In fact…oh god yes, he _remembered_ these. Animal shapes – a rabbit, a deer, a buffalo. How on earth had they gotten here?

Then his eyes alit on a burlap rabbit with black button eyes. Yuuri’s mouth dropped open, and the blood surged through his veins.

It was impossible. It couldn’t be. And yet there was only one way these things could be here…only one person who would have them.

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

Yuuri snapped his head around – and there he was, coming over to sit down in a wooden chair next to the bed, a cup of steaming coffee in his hand. The corners of his mouth tilted up, and his blue eyes held him with clear intensity.

“Hello, Yuuri.” He smiled.

“V-Victor!” Yuuri cried in a hoarse throat, sitting bolt upright.


	57. Chapter 57

Victor had sat in the chair throughout the evening and the night, dozing at times, getting up briefly to stretch his legs, visit the outhouse, grab a bite to eat or drink. Stoke the fire. Adjust the covers over his sleeping guest. But mostly he just sat, and waited, and watched.

This was killing him before he’d even said a word.

Seeing Yuuri again made it feel like it was just yesterday that they had been lying in the grotto near the Circle C together. Like the chasm of those years apart had been shoved closed. It was so tempting to pretend it didn’t exist. To get into bed next to Yuuri as he instinctively desired to do and wrap his arms around him. Kiss the pain away. Say to him, “Everything’s OK now, baby.”

Only it wasn’t. And he couldn’t share a bed with him, or call him by any nicknames. What were they to each other now? That was what he kept wondering as he’d been forced to do some rather intimate things in order to attend to Yuuri’s immediate needs. It wouldn’t have been a problem in the past, but now…Well, regardless of how Yuuri would react, Victor had had no choice but to remove all of his wet clothes, which he put on wooden racks in front of the fire to dry. He knew that Yuuri used to keep spare clothes in his saddlebags; and sure enough, when he looked inside he found a pair of drawers, some pants, and a shirt. These he put on Yuuri, more for the sake of saving him embarrassment than for warmth, as there were plenty of blankets on the bed for that. And it still felt to Victor like he was violating him somehow. As if he were a complete stranger.

This wasn’t supposed to happen at all. Victor had assiduously made sure to stay out of Yuuri’s life, avoid all contact, and not leave any clues anywhere or with anyone that might give Yuuri the idea he was still alive, let alone here in this cabin. And when he’d heard the first gunshot that afternoon, he had simply been drawn to go and see if he could find out who was here and what they were doing, because it was rare for anyone to come out here at all, let alone be shooting at things. He figured it was probably a hunter, but it was just as well to make sure. So he’d dressed for the weather, saddled up Luchik, and ridden in the direction whence the shot had been fired.

He’d been on the verge of turning back, unable to locate the owner of the gun or the exact area where they’d been, when he had heard six more shots close by. They were fired in rapid succession, as if someone was quickly emptying their six-shooter. Curious. He took his time approaching, his own gun in his hand in case he was running headlong into trouble. But he soon discovered that the trouble was of a very different nature when he saw Biscuit standing in the snow, and Yuuri next to her, dripping wet and shivering – and then sinking to the ground.

Victor had rushed over, grabbed a blanket from his saddlebags, wrapped it around Yuuri, and picked him up in his arms. Still holding him, he managed to secure a rope to Biscuit. Then he’d climbed onto Luchik, placing Yuuri in front of him, hoping that riding double would accomplish two things: getting them both back to the cabin safely, and warming Yuuri up a little more, since they would be sharing some body heat. Victor would gladly have given him all that he had, if only he could be sure Yuuri was going to be OK.

At least, during the vigil throughout the night, Victor could see he was breathing. Maybe all he needed now was rest, though Victor knew he was no medical expert. It seemed on a few occasions like Yuuri might be waking up, and Victor tried to encourage him with softly spoken words in Russian. At least that way it was safe to say what he felt. _Please, baby, come back to me._ Yuuri had mumbled a few things himself, and Victor had caught his own name a couple of times; but it wasn’t until the morning that he seemed to regain full consciousness. Victor was delighted to see him looking so much better – but dismayed at his reaction when he took in the full reality of the situation. Under the circumstances, though, maybe it was only to be expected.  

Of course he _would_ come to during one of the few moments Victor was otherwise engaged; in this case, with brewing coffee. His heart was in his throat as he greeted Yuuri, trying to project some semblance of calm as he waited for whatever was going to come next. He hadn’t a clue what to expect; and in such an important moment, that was frightening.

Yuuri’s eyes were frantic as they searched his face. His mouth was hanging open, and he clawed at the blankets to remove them. Victor rose, put his coffee down on a small table next to the bed, and placed a hand on the blankets to try to prevent Yuuri from pulling them off further. “You need to stay warm. You were freezing.”

He felt a hand clap over the top of his, then lift it up as if to inspect it, holding on to the fingers. “It’s you,” Yuuri said, blinking and staring at the hand he was holding. “You’re real. I’m not dreaming.”

_Oh god._ Victor yearned to drop all the formalities now and enfold him in his arms. Instead he gently pulled his hand away and sat back down on the chair, his eyes never leaving Yuuri’s. “I’m real.”

“I – I…” Yuuri shut his mouth and stared at him with big round eyes.

“How are you feeling?” Victor asked. As Yuuri continued to look, not answering, he added, “Would you like something to drink? I’ve got coffee on. Though if you’d rather just have some water – ”

Yuuri plucked at the material of his own shirt. “This isn’t what I was wearing,” he muttered with a dazed expression.

“I, um…You were wet, like you’d been in the river. I brought you back here and changed you into some dry clothes.” He nodded at the racks near the fire, where Yuuri’s clothes from the day before were hanging. “I hope that’s OK,” he said quietly. Those unbelieving, startled eyes were beginning to worry him. 

“Yeah,” Yuuri whispered distractedly, “that’s OK.”

Victor picked up his mug of coffee and took a sip. “Will you tell me what happened?”

“I…was…hunting a bear. I shot it and tried to pull it out of the river… _Victor._ ” His eyes were blazing. “How…how…”

“How am I alive, and here?” He smiled gently as Yuuri swallowed and nodded. “It’s a long story.”

“ _Please –_ ”

“I’ll tell you if you lie back, relax, and have something to drink. I was worried about you. It looked like you’d had a hard time out there.” He was aware of sounding calm and nonchalant, which was definitely not how he was feeling, but perhaps what both of them needed right now.

“OK,” Yuuri sighed, leaning back against the headboard, a stack of pillows underneath him. “This is…your bed?” he asked in a small voice.

Victor chuckled as he poured him some water from a pitcher. “Of course. There’s nobody else here. Though I can’t take too much credit for the cabin,” he said as he handed the tin cup to Yuuri and sat back down to drink his coffee. “I just found it and fixed it up. I’ve gotten pretty good at that kind of thing.”

Yuuri’s eyes flitted back and forth from his cup to Victor. “I…I thought you were…” He trailed off. “You were shot…I couldn’t – ” There was a note of agitation in his voice again.

“I know. I never would have expected anyone to be able to pull me out of there.”

A tear trailed down Yuuri’s cheek. “When I thought I’d lost you, I…It hurts to remember.” He bit his lip.

“Are you sure you want me to talk about it?”

_“Yes,”_ was the fervent response.

So Victor started from the point where he’d been shot and fallen off of Luchik. And Yuuri was right – it did hurt to remember. But the sharpness of the pain and loss were considerably dulled now by the fact that he was here and whole and with Yuuri again, albeit under difficult circumstances that they would no doubt speak about later. When he mentioned his visits with Chris and Phichit at the ranches, Yuuri gasped.

“They knew…they know you’re alive? They’ve known all this time?”

Victor simply nodded. Yuuri put a hand to his mouth and stifled a sound that verged too close to panic for Victor’s liking, so he thought it best to move on. When he mentioned fetching Toby to look for him, Yuuri shook his head in wonderment.

“If I hadn’t already been running away from one tracker dog, I wouldn’t have been so careful about what I was doing. That…that was the smelliest town I’ve ever been to.” He huffed a small laugh, and Victor did the same, observing how he had both hands wrapped around his cup as if trying to draw fortitude out of it somehow. “If…if I’d known you were trying to find me…” He let out a shaky sigh.

Victor briefly detailed his journey across the midwest as he sought to make a fresh start. When he mentioned his arrival in St. Louis, and how long he had gone on to live there, Yuuri sat up straight again. “So you _were_ there,” he breathed.

“You weren’t sure? I saw the personal ad you took out, but…it was drawn to my attention rather late, and I think by then you’d already gone. I went to the Linden Hotel, like it said.”

Yuuri let out a long, shuddering breath, put his cup on the table, bent over in the bed and put his face in his hands. “Fuck,” Victor heard his muffled voice come from behind them. He found something darkly humorous in this, and maybe Yuuri did too, which that one word seemed to sum up perfectly. The vicissitudes of fortune. They had both been through so many.

“How did you know to look for me there?” Victor asked.

Yuuri removed his hands from his face, wiping tears away and sighing again. Then he told Victor about meeting Mike Tyler from the Circle C at the hotel in Clearwater. The story was very matter-of-fact as he related it, like it was only natural for him to try to follow up on such a clue, though it raised certain questions that Victor knew he wanted to ask. It was surprising – and telling, maybe – that Yuuri had been willing to make a journey like that based on such a slim probability of it being successful. He also wondered when, exactly, Mike had spied him in The Silver Spoon.

“So…why St. Louis?” Yuuri asked him. “And what did you do there?”

Victor looked at the dregs in the bottom of his mug. This wasn’t getting any easier. But he and Yuuri had always been honest with each other. So he described getting a job at the livery stable – which elicited another frustrated response from Yuuri, as he’d visited several in the area, but obviously not that one; living in an apartment of his own; passing the days and experiencing new things. Yuuri jumped in at times to say that he’d been to or walked by some of the places he mentioned. Then Victor told him about Jonah, and he could see the tension work its way through Yuuri’s body; the way his shoulders squared and his gaze dropped down. _Well I’m not with him anymore, and I never loved him in the first place – unlike, perhaps, your own situation right now, which neither of us has brought up yet._ He took a moment to gather his thoughts, which had suddenly scattered, and continued his narrative, concluding, “It turned out to be a bad idea to go there. I wasn’t happy, Yuuri.” He realized he was caressing his mug, and put it on the table next to Yuuri’s. “I was in pieces from losing you, and trying to run away from that and the things that had happened in Larkspur, and…I made some poor choices.”

Yuuri just looked at him for a moment. “It’s hard to imagine you living in a city, wearing a suit. Working in a store. The livery stable, that’s different.” He gave him a small smile.   

“I like to think I was quite dashing.” He managed a wink, and Yuuri’s smile grew.

They stared at each other silently, then Yuuri looked down. _Give me strength,_ Victor thought. Underneath all of this pleasant catching up, it felt like his heart was breaking, because his Yuuri, the Yuuri he knew and loved, was here in front of him, and might as well have been a million miles away. Would they even see each other again after this? The thought brought a tear to his eye, and he blinked. _Christ._

Yuuri looked back up and asked quietly, “How did you find me?”

“The hotel register. You wrote ‘Wyoming Territory’ next to your name.”

“But…Wyoming’s a big place.”

“Not as big as an entire country. I thought maybe you’d want to stick around someplace near the mountains, but it helped when the options were narrowed down.”

Yuuri wrinkled his brow. “But how did you know where to start? How long were you looking?”

“Handily enough, things finished with Jonah at about the same time as you were in St. Louis. I was already wondering what to do next. You answered that question for me.” He went on to tell Yuuri about his travels in Wyoming – the temporary ranch jobs, competing in rodeos, joining traveling shows. Making inquiries in every town he visited. Yuuri listened like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. But after he mentioned his brief conversation with the sheriff of Clearwater, Victor paused. This was going to get very difficult now. As if it hadn’t been already.

“You did all that just to try to find me?” Yuuri said in awe. “My god, Victor. All this time, I…I had no idea.”

“It gave me a few stories to tell.” He thought briefly about Lily and Jimmy shooting the ashes off the end of the cigarette in his mouth and allowed himself a little smile, but then quickly sobered. “I’d been planning to go to your ranch to see you,” he carried on. “But I decided to wait a bit first. Then, after performing with the show the next day, I met a lovely little girl who told me her name was Taki.” He stopped and gazed at Yuuri.

“Oh my god.”

“She was there at the show with a couple of older boys. I liked them all so much that I invited them to come back the next day, my treat. They all got to ride on Luchik. Taki was especially impressive – sweet, smart, knew her own mind.” He smiled again. “Like her father, I guess you could say.”

Yuuri swallowed. He seemed to be struggling to find words. Eventually he said, “I think I remember…I was busy helping out with the calving, or I would have gone to the show with her. She…she didn’t tell me much, just that one of the horsemen was really nice to her and her friends and had invited them to come back, and let them ride on his horse. That he did some of the things she’d seen me do on my horse.” He rubbed at an eye. “I never dreamed it was you. But that was…what, six months ago? What did you do between then and now? Why didn’t you tell me you were here?”

Victor’s eyes narrowed. There was no more avoiding the subject, though they both had done a good job of it up until now. “Why do you think? You’re married, Yuuri. Aren’t you? When I spoke to Taki, she mentioned her mother – May, I think she said.” He couldn’t help but add, “Who got angry at you for trick riding, which she said was dangerous.”

Yuuri sighed deeply, then buried his head in his hands again. Victor waited for him to say something, but the silence stretched out. All right, then. He’d carry on. “If you thought I ever had any respect for you, you wouldn’t have asked me that question.” The remark came out like a splinter. He had to be very careful about choosing his words, he knew, and try not to betray the turmoil he felt inside. “I wasn’t going to go marching up to your house and announce myself to her, now, was I? What do you take me for? I would never set out to hurt you and your family like that.”

A sob escaped Yuuri, and he looked at Victor with a tear-stained face. “I thought you were dead!” he cried, and the despair in his voice was clear. “I never wanted any of this to happen! I…I…didn’t know what else to do. I thought you’d left me here by myself, and I had to do _something_ – I had to get on with my life somehow!” He rested his forehead against a hand and wept openly.

“I know,” Victor said gently. The tears gathered in his own eyes, and he took a breath and told himself to be calm, for both of them. But he’d never wanted to hold anyone so much in his life, and it was driving him crazy that he had to sit here apart from Yuuri like this. “I’m not angry, and I don’t blame you. I…I was just sad. I guess you can understand. I didn’t have any business hoping to contact you anymore, and it was hard to decide what to do next. I was under contract with the wild west show, so I finished up with that; we toured around the territory some more. Then…well, I’d learned some survival skills over the years, and the mountains were nearby, and I kind of liked the idea of being my own boss for a while. I wondered what it was about Clearwater that had attracted you here and made you want to stay. And I suppose I was being a little selfish too, because I was hoping to get word of you indirectly. It seemed like a good way of finding out how you’d been doing, without contacting you myself or giving away that I was here. I was curious.” He rested a hand on one knee and rubbed his other hand over it. “I shouldn’t have. Then we wouldn’t have come across each other like this. I should’ve let go completely. But…it was so hard to do.”

They sat in silence again, each one taking in shuddering breaths and fighting back tears. Then Yuuri muttered, looking down at the blanket, “Nothing. Nothing attracted me here. It was just a place to go that seemed far enough away from Larkspur.”

Victor looked at him. “It’s in Wyoming. And it’s got mountains.”

“That describes every place for miles north and south of here.”

“Well, maybe it’s why you didn’t go any further away.”

Yuuri just huffed and continued to look down. “What were you going to do next? You weren’t going to stay here like this, were you – all by yourself, in the middle of nowhere?”

That was a good question. He thought for a moment, then said, “I hadn’t decided. But no, I don’t suppose I would have stayed here indefinitely. I guess I just figured I’d move on to something else when I felt ready.” _If there’s a hell on earth, this is it_ , he thought to himself. It felt like his heart was continuing to break into smaller and smaller pieces; like someone had stabbed a chisel into it and was pounding. “Do you wish we hadn’t met again?” he couldn’t help asking.

Yuuri’s eyes shot up. They were red from crying. He looked as if the question had made him angry. “No. Of course not.” Then he groaned and rested his head on his hand again. “Jesus, what a mess.”           

Victor ran a hand over his own face and wondered what else to say. Yes, it was a mess. There was no denying that. And while he didn’t see any point in dishing out blame – he was not a vindictive person, and it was clear that fate had taken its hand and slapped them both several times over – he thought it might be important for Yuuri to recognize more fully the part he’d played in it all, because Victor wasn’t sure if he did. And he had to admit to himself that he was a little annoyed by this, too.

After a moment, he began again, “Yuuri…you were married when you went looking for me in St. Louis, weren’t you? What was in your mind then?”

Yuuri looked startled by the question. He raked a hand through his hair and thought. “Well, it never occurred to me that you might still be alive until I talked to Mike. It gave me something to hope for. I knew it wasn’t much to go on, but I wanted to give it a try at least.”

_No, Yuuri,_ Victor thought, willing himself to press on. _Not good enough._ “And if you’d found me there…then what?”

Yuuri’s cheeks, already blotched with pink, deepened. “I…” He swallowed. His voice was barely above a whisper. “I…don’t know.”  

Victor gave him the most sultry look he could muster – not because he felt that way at the moment, but because he wanted to tease the truth, whatever that was, out of Yuuri. If it was a little on the manipulative side, so be it. He’d started this, in a way, by coming to St. Louis, putting the ad in the paper, and signing the hotel register. “If I’d come to your room,” he purred, “and touched you…kissed you…pulled you down onto the bed with me…would you have told me to stop? Or would you have begged for more?”

Yuuri stared at him with surprise and what looked like fear in his eyes, and his breaths were audible. He clutched at his blanket with a shaking hand, trying to speak from a dry throat. “I…I don’t…Oh god,” he said again with a sob.

Victor sighed. He felt like a prick for what he’d just said, though maybe it would get Yuuri thinking at least, because he truly didn’t seem to have an answer to the questions he’d just been asked. “I’m sorry. I know this is hard for us both. I…don’t mean to make it any worse. Are you ready for coffee? More water?”

“Jesus, Victor.” Yuuri looked at the ceiling and took several deep breaths. “OK. I guess I could do with some more water.”

Victor got up, glad of a pause in what was shaping up to feel like the biggest torture session of his life. He took his time in refilling Yuuri’s mug, and got himself a second cup of coffee. They both sat and sipped in silence for a minute.

“I’d like to ask you one more thing,” Victor said quietly. Yuuri shot him another fearful glance, and he added, “It’s not really a personal question, but I’m curious.” When Yuuri nodded, he went on, “Chris and Phichit both promised to let me know the second they found out where you were. I made sure Chris had the details of where I was living, as often as I could send them when I was moving around.” He paused. “Why didn’t you contact them? Was there anyone in Larkspur you did keep in contact with?”

Yuuri’s eyes flitted downward. He looked so very tired. “No. And I’m not sure I can explain very well. For one thing, I was afraid someone there might find out where I was. And then I had the ranch, and a family, and I wanted to protect them from that. But…more than anything, I felt like I needed to make a clean break. What happened there was so awful, I just wanted to put it all behind me.” He swallowed and shook his head. “I don’t know…box it all up and shove it into a corner of my mind, I guess, where I could try to forget about it.”

Victor sipped his coffee. “I think I can understand. I felt the same, in a way. But, Yuuri, leaving it all behind doesn’t mean you have to cut ties with people you still care about, who care about you in return. I’m sure they would have loved to hear from you and find out you were OK. And then, of course, they would have been able to let me know where you were. Or they could have told you where I was, and you could have come to me…like you eventually tried to do, when you met Mike.”

Tears were running down Yuuri’s cheeks again, and he held his cup like his life depended on it. “I’ve been so stupid,” he mumbled. “I could have prevented…all of this. If I’d known you were alive…if I’d only known.”

After another silence, Victor couldn’t help but say, “I missed you so much, Yuuri. It’s good to see you.”

“I missed you, too.”

Victor stood and put their empty cups in the basin. “Well maybe it’s a good thing I _was_ here, after all,” he said, leaning with his back against the rough-hewn wooden wall with his arms folded across his chest. “At least I was able to help you out yesterday.”

“You did more than that. You saved my life.”

Victor gave him a small smile. “You saved mine twice.”

Yuuri huffed a laugh. “I think that makes us even, then.” He paused, searching Victor’s face. “You haven’t changed. It’s been seven years since I last saw you, and…you’re…you look just the same.”

“Flatterer.” Victor smirked. “You haven’t changed either, Yuuri. You’re just like I remember you.” Though upon closer inspection, Victor thought, especially when Yuuri had been asleep and it wasn’t rude to stare, he’d noticed a seasoned, mellow look about him of the sort someone might have who had seen many ups and downs in life, and was filled with the knowledge and wisdom of them. It had made him even more beautiful. He searched for something else to say. “And imagine you being a father.”

“Yeah.” Yuuri gave him a wistful grin. “It’s hard work sometimes. But she’s…special.”

Victor felt his heart lift in gladness for Yuuri. He could see the love he had for his child written across his face. “She said she’d been riding since she was two.”

“Of course. She’s my girl.”

They both chuckled. Then Victor said, “Taki…is that a Japanese name?”

Yuuri’s cheeks pinked again. “Yeah. It, um, means ‘waterfall.’ ”

“Waterfall.” Victor saw the rosiness on Yuuri’s face, and a delighted grin crossed his own. “You don’t say.”

Yuuri looked down with an endearingly bashful expression, grinning also. “I’ve kind of had a liking for them since…you know. That may have been where it…ended, but I didn’t want to let that spoil a lot of good memories.”

Victor stared at him with unabashed fondness. Then a thought struck him, pulling him back down to earth. “Does, um…does May know the significance of the name?”

Yuuri’s face fell, the grin vanishing. “She knows what it means in Japanese. She thought it was cute.”

“And…” Victor swallowed. “…does she know about the two of us? About what happened – ”

“She doesn’t know anything at all,” Yuuri jumped in quickly. “Not about you, not about Larkspur. Nobody here knows.” As Victor watched him quietly, he added in a soft voice, “It’s safer that way.”

_Is it?_ Victor wondered. _For who?_

“You said you found this place and fixed it up?” Yuuri said, taking in his surroundings.

Victor resigned himself to the change of subject. “It made more sense than building something from scratch, especially since I wasn’t sure how long I’d be staying. But yeah, I’ve done that kind of thing here and there.” It was hard to avoid a note of pride in his voice. “You’d be surprised how many old wooden cabins and shacks there are around, if you know where to look. This one was missing a roof and a lot of its chinking, but I did some repairs.”

“You did the roof all by yourself?” Yuuri sounded incredulous.

Victor just smiled. “I can show you around, if you feel up to it. Though there’s not a lot to see.”

“I’d like that.” Yuuri pulled his blanket off and swung his feet onto the wooden floor.

“Are you sure you’re OK to get up?”

“Victor, don’t fuss,” Yuuri admonished him with a gentle laugh, and suddenly the years fell away, and it felt to Victor like they were back in the bunkhouse at the Circle C.

“Your socks and boots are by the fire. I think they should be dry by now,” he said unnecessarily, as they were in plain sight. Yuuri just smiled, walked over, and pulled them on.

“I can’t believe you kept that old whittling I did,” Yuuri chuckled, glancing over at it on the window sills.

“Can’t you?” Victor said softly.

Yuuri stood and looked at him, and swallowed. Then he looked away. “Did…did the furniture come with the cabin?”

“No. I made most of it myself. Though fortunately the bricks in the fireplace were in good shape, and that stove was already here. I was lucky to find a place in such good shape, I think.”

“You… _made_ the furniture?”

“Well.” Victor shrugged. “It’s not hard to put a bed frame together, if you get the right materials. And as for the table and chairs…I know they’re a little makeshift, but I didn’t have time to learn the finer points of the trade before…um, before that particular part of my life was over with.”

“You mean you learned how to make furniture while you were helping to run the store?” Victor nodded, and Yuuri laughed. “Is there anything you do that you don’t end up being incredibly good at?”

“Plenty.”

“Did you make the cabinet here?”

“No, that was built in as part of the cabin.”

Yuuri walked over to it and examined the things on the counter top. “What are all these?”

“Pickled vegetables in vinegar and herbs – beets, cucumber, pumpkin. I had the time to plant a little vegetable patch out back last summer.”

“I didn’t know you could do this,” Yuuri said, picking up a jar, looking at it, and putting it back down.

“Not much call for it when you’re working on a ranch with a cook shack. But I learned some things from Yakov and his wife Lilia. Russians make a lot of pickles and preserves, to make the food last through the long winter. I didn’t know when I’d ever need to cook, but I thought it would be a useful skill to have.”

“Do you still make borscht?”

“When I have the ingredients.”

Yuuri continued to enthuse over the contents of the cooking area like a delighted little boy, and for a while Victor shrugged off the gravity of the situation and basked in Yuuri’s excitement about things he himself took for granted as unremarkable facets of day-to-day life. There was an oaken bucket containing minced cooking apples which Victor was trying to make alcoholic cider from, and a sourdough starter on the counter. Victor said he always wanted to carry some around with him like many other cowboys did, but since he didn’t spend long periods of time camping out on the open range, he’d never gotten around to it.

“And what’s this over here?” Yuuri asked, examining the wooden racks in front of the fire. While his clothes still hung from one, others contained chunks of drying meat.

“Deer and cougar. I went hunting a few days ago.”

“Cougar?” Yuuri echoed.

“You’ve never had it? It tastes kind of like pork. You can try some if you want. I’ll put a meal together for us in a bit. If you’re hungry.”

“That sounds nice.”

Yuuri pulled his gray woolen coat out of his saddlebags, which Victor had put in a corner for him, and they went outside. The cabin was at the top of a hill in a clearing of firs and aspens; there were a few inches of snow on the ground, but the clouds had moved away and the sun was dazzling on the blanket of white. Their feet crunched across the ground as they entered a small stable, where their horses stood in stalls. Victor felt absurdly pleased at the warm greeting Yuuri gave Luchik, as if he was reuniting with an old friend. They spent some time feeding and grooming the horses, then Victor showed Yuuri the third main building on the site, which he confessed he still hadn’t been able to figure out the original purpose of, but thought might have been a small forge, as there was an open stove inside. Victor had been using it as a storage area for piles of hay and other fodder for the winter, as well as his furniture-making workshop; there were tools obviously meant for the purpose, and stacks of planks. The only other structures Yuuri caught a glimpse of were an outhouse and something that looked like a wooden shed.

They returned to the warmth of the cabin, and Victor laid some food out for them on the table. He opened a couple of pickle jars, put some of the dried meat on a tin plate, cut some pieces of sourdough bread that he’d baked the day before, and served it on a wooden board with some smetana, which he explained was a type of sour cream. Yuuri followed his example of dropping a blob onto some pickled beets, and smearing it onto his bread, and seemed to like it.

“I can’t believe everything I’ve seen here,” Yuuri said. “Victor, you’re amazing.” He seemed to catch himself, blushed, and dipped a chunk of bread in more smetana. Victor had also filled a mug with cider for each of them to drink, though it was weak yet, as it hadn’t been fermenting long.

“I guess you don’t see many people up here,” Yuuri said later, after they’d polished off their food and were sipping their cider.

“No.”

“It…sounds lonely. But…you seem to be doing so well for yourself.” Victor just looked at him and sipped. “I wish I’d gone to see you in the wild west show. I bet you were beautiful.”

Victor chuckled. “You would have liked the whole show, I think. Do you still do the trick riding, or have you been banned from it completely?”

“Oh no, May wouldn’t be able to stop me if she wanted to.” He seemed to choke for a moment, and continued, “I still think it’s fun, so yeah, I do it. But not for audiences. I…I’m out of practice, but I can still do a lot. Sometimes I think maybe I should try to revive the ballet and gymnastics too, before I forget how. Maybe I just need to find the motivation. I guess my other main project these days is learning the guitar. Though I’m not going to be bowling people over with that any time soon.”

“I’m sure you’re better at it than you think. I seem to remember that was often the case. And I…” _Love to listen to you sing._ “…I think that’s a wonderful hobby.” They looked at each other, and silence hung in the air. Then Victor added, “It sounds like you’re keeping busy, and you’ve got everything you used to tell me you wanted.” _How very distant and formal._ “I’m glad.” _Yes…though not really. Because I don’t suppose I’ll ever be a part of it. And I still love you._ Suddenly his lunch wasn’t sitting too well in his stomach, and he lost his taste for the cider.

“Um…thank you,” Yuuri said in a small voice. He drank the rest of his cider and stood up. “They’ll be getting worried about me at the ranch if I don’t get going soon. I said I wouldn’t be spending the night out here unless it was an emergency.”

“Of course.” Victor felt positively sick now. “You were missing some clothes when I found you – a coat and so on. Do you want to use anything of mine?”

“Uh, no, that’s OK. It’s warmed up outside and the snow’s melting. It’ll be even warmer once I get back down from the foothills.”

Victor fetched Yuuri’s clothes from in front of the fire, which Yuuri packed in his saddlebags. These he took out to Biscuit, and he brought her out of the stable. He and Victor stood and stared at each other.

“I guess this is goodbye,” Yuuri said in a wavering voice.

Victor held his gaze and pressed his lips together, shoving his hands into the pockets of his duster coat. “Yes.”

Yuuri’s throat bobbed, and there was a tic at his mouth. He didn’t move. Victor continued to stand quietly, watching.

“Victor…” Yuuri whispered, tears gathering in his eyes, “…I don’t know what to do.”

Victor’s eyes dropped to the ground, then found Yuuri’s again. _I know what I want you to do, with all my heart. But this is your decision, and I have no right to influence that. Please don’t try to make me._ He remained silent and still.

“I…I have to go.” He gave a shuddering sigh, sniffled, then turned and led Biscuit away down the steep side of the hill.

Victor watched him go, his own tears quietly spilling down his cheeks.

They had resolved nothing.

Would he see Yuuri again? There was no knowing. But he couldn’t seek contact with Yuuri or his family. Nothing would change. And he would be here, alone, marking the time until he felt ready to move on.

He wished with every fiber of his being that he’d tried harder to find Yuuri after Toby had lost his scent in Red Rocks. Surely there was more he could have done. He should have scoured the whole territory of Wyoming; all of the Rocky Mountains. Anything that would have prevented this future from unfolding as it had.

It was killing him.


	58. Chapter 58

Yuuri was at war with himself. His feet were demanding that he turn straight around and head back. Maybe that was why he was walking, instead of riding Biscuit.

He didn’t want to go.

He had to go.

The thing he’d wanted most for the past seven years was back there up the hill. It had unexpectedly appeared right in front of him. He could have reached out and grabbed it with both hands.

He had to go.

This time, instead of losing it, he was _deliberately_ leaving it behind.

Victor. He was leaving Victor.

He stopped and heaved several breaths, tears springing to his eyes yet again. Alone, on this mountain path, with nobody to witness but the trees sighing in the breeze, he was being ripped apart inside. There were choices that he had to make but didn’t feel able to.

He couldn’t bear this.

His thoughts strayed to the hip flask in his saddlebags. There was enough whiskey in it to send him into a spin away from it all, push it to the periphery, where the pain could no longer cut and bite. But he wouldn’t be any happier. He’d likely hurt himself trying to get back to the ranch. And the problems wouldn’t go away. No, he had to face them all. Somehow.

_I can’t do this._

_I have to._

He spent a few minutes leaning against his saddle, his tears leaking quietly onto the leather. What he felt was beyond wanting to weep or howl or doing anything demonstrative to express it. He just fingered the leather and wiped his cheek against it in a caress, wishing there was some comfort somewhere to be had. It should have been comforting to finally be with Victor again. Well, in a way it was. But it had been an exquisite kind of torture as well.

As he forced himself to get on his horse and move, he sent his mind back to the point where he woke up and realized what was happening – where he was, and who he was with. Maybe reflecting on it would give him some clue what to do. His thoughts drifted, coming and going like the clouds overhead as the day wore on and Biscuit made her way across country that sloped gradually downward.

Not a day had passed since they’d been separated, he was sure, when he hadn’t at least had a brief thought about Victor. And suddenly there he was in that cabin, dressed in his cowboy clothes, hair shining in the sunlight through the window, with a soft smile when he saw that he’d awakened. Yuuri really had considered for a moment that he’d frozen to death out there in the snow. He had to touch Victor, even if it just meant holding his hand for a moment, to prove to himself that they were both still flesh and bone.

Victor had changed his clothes for him. The bed smelled of him. He felt wrapped in the warm, peaceful intimacy that they used to share, that he remembered so well. And it seemed so wrong that Victor was sitting there in that chair, with a wary look about him, when he should have been in bed with Yuuri, and they should have been holding each other tight.

He’d had no idea Victor was still alive – his trip to St. Louis had put paid to that brief hope – let alone had been searching for him for a year and a half, living an itinerant existence that he’d made out to sound exciting, but which Yuuri would never wish on anybody. Only for it to end in disappointment. Yuuri conjured up a bittersweet image of his reaction to believing his search was finally over when he got the information he needed from Sheriff Atkins – then discovering that Yuuri was married. But Yuuri had still thoughtlessly asked why he hadn’t come to see him. _I would never hurt you and your family like that._ No matter how much Victor himself might have been hurting. He cared deeply enough to back away for Yuuri’s sake – unlike Yuuri, who had rushed to St. Louis in pursuit of him while refusing to think the possible consequences through. Victor had every right to ask him what had been in his mind. Yuuri couldn’t answer that question then, and he’d struggled to do it this morning.

But _had_ Victor backed away? He’d obviously made the decision he thought was right. As far as Yuuri was aware, no one on the ranch had come across him, nor anyone in the town – not to know his connection with Yuuri and mention it, at any rate. And he did live a distance away – about four hours’ ride by horse, Yuuri reckoned. You could just see an expanse of the range and even make out some of the town from the high hill where the cabin was, but it really was as good as out in the middle of nowhere. Still… _I should’ve let go completely. But…it was so hard to do._ There was the answer. Even Victor couldn’t follow through one hundred percent with what he’d attempted.

_I’m not sure I’ll be able to either_ , Yuuri thought as he guided Biscuit around a turn onto a larger path that he knew would take him across the range toward the ranch. Because he _knew._ He knew, when he looked into the deepest part of himself, why that was. His own heart desired what it desired, and it didn’t listen to logic or common sense or lectures on morality, duty or obligation. If Victor had come to his hotel room in St. Louis, and Yuuri had done what he ached to do, barely a word would have been allowed to pass between them before they would have been in each other’s arms, and then tangled together between the sheets, full of heat and want, as if trying to make up for lost time. He ought to have admitted it to himself a few hours ago, when Victor had looked at him _like that_ and asked him _in that voice_ what he would have done, and to his consternation it had sent a shiver through him and he’d felt himself starting to get hard. And from that moment onward, Yuuri had been aware of some degree of desire simmering below the surface – for Victor; for the relationship they’d had. That they could so easily have again. So his heart said.

But that didn’t mean he had to blindly follow his heart’s desire, did it? And what if there was more than one desire? For a little girl he cherished, for a woman who was wonderful in so many ways and had stood by him and been through highs and lows with him over the years? The three of them had a shared history now, too. If Victor was the past, they were what was real right now in this instant. And they depended on him. He wasn’t the sort of person to enter into a marriage only to break the promises he’d made when temptation came along.

_Is that all Victor is to you? Temptation?_

_Look at you, Yuuri Katsuki – so virtuous. A man of principle and commitment, who would never hurt anyone. Now, by having left Victor a clue to where he could find you, you’ve brought about circumstances where someone is going to be hurt regardless. You did that._

_And you threw away every friend you had left. You were lying to yourself when you thought you would never go back to Larkspur because it was too dangerous. Victor went, when going there meant he was in immediate danger of being killed. You were just too cowardly to face any complications. Or maybe you thought that living the life of a loner was some kind of dramatically sad, romantic thing to do?_

Yuuri took a shuddering breath and ran a hand through Biscuit’s mane to try to soothe himself as she walked along. They were on level ground now, more or less. It was warmer here, though the blustery chill of the snowy weather the day before had been gone from the foothills by that morning as well. Ordinarily, he would have thought it was a pleasant day. If it hadn’t been for the scathing voice inside of him. He hadn’t heard it in a long time, not at this intensity. It was painful, harsh…but it seemed to speak the truth. His stomach blenched as it carried on without mercy.

_So you made a mess of everything by pretending to yourself you had no past. If you’d contacted Phichit or Chris even once, none of this would have happened. That was your fault too._

_And the best part of it all? Victor saved your life. He took care of you. Gave you food and drink; offered to give you things to replace what you lost in the river. Maybe raised some difficult questions, but rightly so, and never once criticized you or had an unkind word to say. Never told you what to do or tried to impose himself, even when you as good as asked him to when you told him you didn’t know what to do. If he’d said he wanted you to stay – as if he would have said that anyway, knowing you had a family to go back to – that wouldn’t have contented you either._

_Face it – you are completely and utterly fucked. And. It’s. Your. Fault._

“No,” Yuuri said firmly into the quiet air. Biscuit snorted and bobbed her head once, and he stroked her mane again. If Victor had taught him anything at all, it was that someone believed he was worthy of love. Victor would never talk to him like that, and he had gotten good at smothering that poisonous inner voice until it had almost been forgotten. It was coming back now, though, because he had to admit to himself that he’d made mistakes, and was in a seemingly hopeless situation. But that didn’t mean it was all his fault; and beating himself up for everything was not going to help him make good decisions.

Maybe giving that critical voice free rein was akin to drinking the whiskey he’d been tempted with. It was a way of trying to avoid the painful necessity of facing his problems head on. But…where would he find the strength or the wisdom to do that?

He looked back in the direction whence he’d come, and thought about how Victor’s cabin could be found on one of those hills in the distance. And the further Yuuri rode away, the more leaden he felt. He was back to where he’d been in the first place – living with the fact that he had consciously turned and walked away from the one thing he’d dreamed most of having for seven years. The man he’d grieved for with his entire being. Who had miraculously come back to him.

There, in the cabin, Yuuri had hardly touched him. He hadn’t even properly said goodbye. He just went.

Tears leaped up in his eyes and ran down his cheeks. Were his thoughts and feelings going to keep circling around like this, driving him crazy?

The only thing he could think to do was return to the ranch. What other option did he have?

_I can’t bear it._

He made no further headway in his mental gymnastics as he rode Biscuit onto Star and Bar land. He took her straight to the stable, where Patrick was returning his own horse to a stall.

“Yuuri. We was wonderin’ where you were today.”

“Hi, Pat. I…I’m just going to groom Biscuit for a while.”

“Everythin’ OK?” Patrick asked, looking concerned.

“Sure.”

“ _There_ you are,” May said, walking in as Patrick tipped his hat brim to her and exited the stable, giving Yuuri a final curious glance as he went. She was wearing a dark brown woolen coat that reached to her thighs, and she leaned her arms on the gate of Biscuit’s stall. “We were all getting worried about you.”

“I’m OK. Hit some bad weather.”

“I saw it come in yesterday. It rained here. Did you get stuck in snow?”

Yuuri flicked a glance at her and turned back to brushing Biscuit’s mane. After a moment he said, “It got pretty bad for a while. I had to camp out overnight.”

She looked at his bags on the floor of the stall. “Did you find a bear?”

“No.”

Her face clouded. “You’re a man of few words today.” She continued to watch as he worked silently. “Yuuri, are you OK?”

“Uh…just not feeling too good.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

He swallowed. “No, thanks, May. I…I’ll be in after a while. Biscuit just needs a little attention first.”

She chuckled. “There never was a more spoiled horse than this.” Then she gave him a long, searching look. “All right. Dinner will be ready soon.”

“I’m not going to be able to eat anything.”

“Oh…OK. Well, you rest up when you get inside, then.”

“I will.”

After she left, Yuuri sagged against the side of the stall. He stared blankly across the stable. Soft shadows draped themselves quietly over the rafters and gates, spilling onto the earthen floor. Most of the men were still out on their horses; they’d be coming in after another hour or so.

Yuuri had never felt more alone.

Lies. He’d already started telling them to May. He’d left Victor, come straight back here, and…couldn’t even be honest about what had happened with the bear. Somehow he’d have to explain how he’d lost his coat, hat and gloves, too. What else would he find himself making up? he wondered, feeling sick to his stomach.

Everything started spiraling inside of him again. How he longed to be with Victor. How if he did that, he could end up destroying his family. But how could he settle back here now, and try to achieve any kind of happiness or contentment? At the moment it felt safer to stand here in the stable with his horse than it did to enter his own house.

_He’s alive. And he’s just a few hours’ ride away._

_Could I stand to lose him all over again?_

Yuuri ran a hand across his face. It would be easy to start crying again. He could do it all the time, and never stop, but it wouldn’t change anything.

“Am I bad at making decisions?” he said to Biscuit. “I never seem to know what’s best to do. But it feels like this time there’s no best thing.” He gripped the side of the stall and hung his head. “Shit.”

Biscuit nickered. He gave her the best grooming of her life before the ranch hands began to return to the stable, and then he went into the house.


	59. Chapter 59

May finished drying the last pan and put it away in the cupboard. Yuuri had a tin mug in his hand, which he wiped absently with the towel.

“Thanks for your help,” she said as he stored the mug and hung the towel on the rail. “There were a lot of dishes tonight. I should have washed the stuff from when I was baking earlier.”

“No problem.” He gave her a little smile.

“How about we go sit out on the porch a while?” she suggested. “We can have a nice, peaceful evening with Taki over at the Hendersons’.”

“I don’t know…” His eyes flitted around the room distractedly.

“Oh come on, just for a few minutes? What else have you got to do?”

“All right.”

She took a light blue cardigan from a hook by the front door and put it on. Yuuri grabbed his new tan woolen coat and did the same, and they went outside and sat next to each other on the wooden swing, slowly rocking it to and fro. The sun was setting, and the October breeze blew chill. May pulled her cardigan more tightly around herself and snuggled against Yuuri, who draped an arm around her shoulders. It was a familiar gesture, she thought, but it felt mechanical somehow this time. He hadn’t been himself for the past several days, not since he’d come back from the bear hunt.

“Will you be looking to make a trip to Chicago before the year’s out?” she asked him. “It’s been a while.”

“Um…I’m not sure. Maybe. Why?”

“I just thought it’d be nice to go with you this time. Taki and me both. We could make it a vacation.”

He looked down at her. “Who’d run the ranch while we were away?”

“Pat’s been here a while now. He – ”

“He’s just a foreman.”

She pulled away and looked at him. “I wouldn’t say _just_. He knows his job well enough.”

“There’s a lot he doesn’t know besides.”

She made a harrumphing noise. “I think you’re just uncomfortable with leaving the ranch in someone else’s hands. You’re not the only person who can be a boss, you know.”

He smiled at her. “I know. You’re a pretty good one yourself, when you need to be.”

“Absolutely. So…how about it?” she said in a teasing voice. “Taki’s getting old enough to appreciate and remember what she sees in places like that now.”

“She’s only just turned five.”

“According to you, old enough to have been riding a pony for three years.”

“Of course.”

“Well, then?”

He sighed. “We’ll see.” Then his eyes held hers for a long time. There was something searching in them.

“Yuuri, what is it?” she whispered. “Did anything happen while you were out hunting? After you’d gone, I wished I hadn’t insisted. It would have been easier just to go into town and buy a bearskin, or ask Harvey at the Mercantile to hold one for us next time a trapper comes through town, which is what I’ll be asking him to do now anyway.” She was sure she saw a flash of fear in his eyes at her words, and was feeling increasingly disconcerted.

“I…no, nothing happened. I haven’t been feeling well, that’s all.” He looked down and rubbed the fingers of one hand together.

“I worked that much out. You’ve hardly eaten anything lately.” She paused. “Do you want me to ask Doc Reynolds to come out?”

“No, I don’t need a doctor,” Yuuri said quickly.

“Then what is it?” Her voice was gentle; coaxing. She wished it was easier to get a man to talk and put his feelings into words. Yuuri tended to clam up when something was upsetting him, or go ride his horse, or drink, when she was there wanting to help. Like he thought he would be burdening her if he was open with her, or she would break or something. Surely he’d seen by now that she could cope with things as well as any frontierswoman who had been born out here? “Is there a problem with the ranch that I don’t know about?”

“No.” He swallowed. “I’m sorry, May. I guess I’m not very good company tonight. Maybe I do need a vacation; maybe I’ve been working too hard.”

She examined his profile, darkening into shadow as the sunlight faded, and suddenly felt strangely distanced from him. Shut out. “Yuuri. Please talk to me.”

He gave her that odd searching look again, then cupped a hand on her cheek. Wordlessly he leaned over and gave her a gentle kiss. She sighed and wrapped her arms loosely around his shoulders.

“Well if you won’t talk, there are other things we can do,” she said in a soft, playful tone. “It’s not that often we get an evening to ourselves.”

He pulled away slightly, as if trying to find words. “I really am sorry about the past few days,” he said quietly. “I’ll…try to make it up to you.”

“Start now, then,” she said with a smile.

***

Yuuri was ostensibly checking on some of the cattle that morning. In reality, he’d ridden Biscuit out here because he had to get away, and this part of the range was far enough from the ranch that he could be sure of getting some time to himself. He knew he couldn’t completely conceal how he was feeling inside, and had alarmed enough people already.

How many days since he’d come back down from the foothills? It must have been a solid week. That was right – he’d returned on Thursday, and today was Wednesday. And every single day had crawled agonizingly by as Yuuri wrestled with his heart, mind, and conscience. Seemingly endless possibilities for the future, each one quickly reaching a dead end, presented themselves to him. Unceasing thoughts starting with _What if, I wish, I want, If only_.

He would glance up at the hills where he knew Victor’s cabin was, and wonder if he was still there. It looked, from the way he’d furnished and tended to it, like he’d been planning on staying a while yet. But that was before Yuuri had come back into his life. If he did leave, and Yuuri had had the chance to stop it from happening, but had let him go…that was one of the more painful thoughts that plagued him, and there were many. He knew he had dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep.

And oh god, there was May. In the house with him, every day, expecting him to behave normally, and naturally expressing concern if he didn’t. He was trying his best, but he knew he wasn’t doing a very good job. He watched her going about her day-to-day work – laundry, cooking, cleaning, caring for Taki, helping with the accounts for the ranch and so on – and reminded himself what a remarkable job she did, how invaluable she was to him, and how much he appreciated it. Because he did. She was the perfect wife for the boss of a ranch. And then he would think about how beautiful and warm and kind she was, and what it had been like to dance with her that night they’d met; how she’d been like a breath of fresh air in the middle of the tedium. Without Victor in his life – believing that Victor _never would_ be in his life again – he thought he’d been lucky to come across her.

But everything was different now. Wasn’t it?

If he left May, how could he ever forgive himself? She would be devastated. And she’d had to give up her teaching job to marry him. She and Taki were reliant on him. Besides, in the event of a divorce, she would take Taki with her wherever she went. It was possible Yuuri would never see either of them again.

Or he could just live a lie and visit Victor in secret, somehow. Provided that Victor would be content with such an arrangement. May certainly would not, if she ever found out. She would see it as the ultimate betrayal, and she would be right.

_I can’t believe I’m even thinking about these things. This cannot be my life right now._

The thoughts circled and circled, but no acceptable solution ever presented itself.

He tried to keep busy with ranch work. Joined his men in herding and roping cattle. Looked into how the horses in the stable were faring. Considered fodder and fencing and accounts and buyers, down to every last detail. Even checked into what the ranch hands thought of the accommodation in the bunkhouse and the food in the cook shack. They all seemed to think he was in an extra-caring mood for some reason. But he simply wanted to shut out the repetitive thoughts that were driving him to despair, because he could find no answers.

He’d even made love with May. Twice. That was what a husband did, he told himself. It was obviously what she wanted; and he needed to try to live some semblance of a normal life. But it had felt to him like he was wronging both himself and her, because his heart was not in it, however much he wanted it to be. He’d forced himself to focus purely on sensation and shove his churning emotions to the side. And fear crept into his bones with icy fingers, whispering that this could be how the rest of his life played out. He could make himself act any way he wanted. Pretend. Lie. But he would always know what he felt inside.

He heaved a sigh, lifted his Stetson off, and let the breeze ruffle his hair as he sat atop Biscuit, looking at the placid cows, the yellowing grass on the range, the mountains under the blue sky.

That was when he saw the plume of smoke rising up from the foothills. He replaced his hat and squinted to get a better look, to no avail, then pulled his field glasses out of his saddlebags. They revealed nothing but the cotton-like contours of the plume as it billowed and dispersed. Too big to be a campfire or smoke signals. Too small to be a forest fire. Maybe someone deliberately burning something. But what?

His stomach dropped when the worst-case scenario presented itself. Victor’s cabin was in that area. It looked to be about the right distance away.

_Come on, now. That smoke could be from anything. Don’t be ridiculous._

But it wasn’t ridiculous. Log cabins were tinderboxes waiting to be ignited. OK, the logs themselves wouldn’t go up so easily, being large chunks of wood; but roofs and cladding and so on made of thin bone-dry planks were a different matter.

_Victor isn’t stupid. He doesn’t make mistakes that would endanger his own life or anybody else’s._

But accidents could happen, and no one had the power to prevent them completely.

And if it wasn’t Victor’s cabin, it could be somebody else’s. They might need help. Yuuri wasn’t sure what he could do, being only one man without any fire-fighting equipment; but he knew that some people lived very isolated lives out there, and an extra person to lend a hand was better than none. He could waste precious time by riding all the way back to the ranch from here, rounding people up, and bringing them back out.

Even though he was on the furthest corner of Star and Bar land, it was still a long ride that he’d undertaken. He kept an eye on the smoke, confused about what he was seeing. It looked like it had been dying down, but later it intensified again. Yuuri would have thought it was a bonfire that someone had just stoked back up, but he was sure there was too much smoke for that. Then he was into the hills and he could no longer see the smoke for the sloping earth and trees, so he simply continued in the general direction from which the smoke had been rising. Every now and then he caught a glimpse of it between a stand of firs flanking a cliff that opened out onto a vista. He had assumed that the further he went, the sooner he would be reassured that Victor’s cabin was not in danger. But instead, he found himself traveling roughly the same paths that he knew would lead him there. Fear began to clutch at his heart as Biscuit carried him across the uneven, steep, rocky terrain.   

He was certain he recognized his surroundings as they climbed a large hill, and the acrid tang of woodsmoke drifting down the slope sent a wave of panic through him. He could just make out the sounds of roaring and crackling now, too, and he cried Victor’s name out. It was carried away with the breeze back down the slope.

Cresting the hill on Biscuit, he was met with a nightmare vision: some small wooden building near Victor’s cabin had obviously been ablaze for some time – he thought he remembered a shed having been there, but it might as well have been a pile of sticks for all he could make of it now. And a few yards away, the cabin itself was alight – the roof blazing furiously, having already collapsed in one corner, and smoke pouring out of two broken windows in the front.

_“Victor!”_ Yuuri yelled, scrambling to dismount and running toward the cabin. On his way, he looked frantically about. There was no sign of anyone having heard him. No snow on the ground to give a clue as to where Victor might have gone. He cupped his hands against his mouth and shouted again as loudly as he could, _“Victor!”_ with no obvious result.

Could he have been caught in the cabin, unable to get out? Was he trapped there now? He was unlikely to have survived if that were the case; the fire was well established, and the falling roof, and the smoke – dear god, all that smoke…

He pulled his bandanna over his nose and mouth and dashed forward. The thick wooden door to the cabin was shut. There was a simple iron latch on it, though it was hot to the touch. Yuuri pulled a handkerchief out of a vest pocket and pressed the latch down, then pulled. But the door had swollen in the heat and was stuck. He put all his weight into trying to pull it open, but in vain. And anyway, the reasoning part of himself said, there was so much smoke coming out of the windows that it was clear no one could still be alive inside.

Unwilling to follow this train of thought any further, Yuuri pulled his bandanna back down and raced across the clearing to the building that seemed to have once been a forge, calling Victor’s name again. It, too, had a wooden door with an iron latch, and he threw it open and scanned the interior. A couple of windows allowed daylight inside. It was quiet and deserted.

“No,” Yuuri spoke aloud, despair beginning to gnaw at the edges of his consciousness. “Please…no.” He ran back into the clearing, coughing as a hot cloud of smoke blew at him on the breeze, and shouted Victor’s name again, though what new result he expected after having done so for the past little while, he couldn’t say.

“Yuuri?”

It sounded like it came from far away, but Yuuri was sure he heard it with his own ears and wasn’t imagining things. His heart leaped in hope; and as the smoke cleared briefly, he saw Victor walking up the other side of the hill, looking exhausted. He was wearing his cowboy clothes and old duster coat, his silken hair lifting gently in the breeze. There were dark smudges on his face.

_“Victor!”_ Yuuri cried in blessed relief, running forward to meet him. Victor stopped in surprise and watched him. Yuuri paused briefly when he came close, uncertain for just a moment, but then threw his arms around him and held him tight, burying his face in the crook of his neck. He felt Victor’s arms circle around his back. “I came because I saw the smoke. And then I couldn’t find you. I thought…I thought…”

“Shhh. I’m fine.” Victor’s nose and mouth were against his hair. Yuuri heard him take a breath, then add, “But I can’t say the same for the cabin.”

For just a moment, the burning building was a thousand miles away, and Yuuri was in Victor’s arms, and peace and warmth spread through his heart. Then he came back to himself, pulled away and took in the fire, about twenty yards from where they were standing, then looked back at Victor, his eyes wide. “What happened? And where were you?”                 

“The shed caught on fire – I guess a stray spark from the chimney must have caught it. I’d been meaning to get up there and check it – ”

“And it spread to the cabin?”

Victor nodded. “I came out here with a bucket, but there wasn’t a lot I could do. I grabbed what I could from inside, and was staking Luchik out somewhere safe just now.”

Yuuri tried to think fast. “Have you got another bucket?”

“I…yes. But what good are two buckets against that?”

Yuuri could feel the heat radiating from the building. “Well we can try, can’t we? Maybe we can stop the fire from spreading, if we can’t do anything else. Though there might be a chance to save some of the cabin too. And maybe we’ll get lucky and have some help soon.” He looked up at the darkening sky, leaden with thick cloud. “Where’s your water source?”

“There’s a well over there.” Victor gestured across the clearing.

“Fine. Let’s give it our best.”

Victor gave him a grim smile. “The buckets are in the forge. Come with me – I’ll get another, and then we can fill them up at the well.” 

***

After hours of toil, and both of them exhausted, Yuuri had to admit to himself that it would probably have been a futile effort if the heavens had not opened and assisted them greatly. The shower had not lasted as long as he would have liked, but it had enabled them to douse the remaining flames and embers. He couldn’t remember the last time he had worked so hard at anything; he and Victor had barely stood still for a moment. They had paused to fetch their oilskin coats and Stetsons from their saddlebags when the first drops fell from the sky, but had since discarded them. Now, late in the afternoon, they stood and surveyed the damage.

The good news, if so it could be called, was that only the uppermost rows of logs had been completely destroyed; Yuuri reckoned several rows up to the middle of the walls were either unharmed or could possibly be salvaged. However, the roof had completely collapsed inward, and everything inside the cabin had been either incinerated or crushed, apart from metal items such as the cast-iron stove. The windows were shattered, the floor burned and broken in many places.

“Oh Victor,” Yuuri sighed. “I’m so sorry.”

“Well, it’s in worse shape than it was when I found it in the first place, but not by much.”

“But all your things…Could you save any of them?”

“I grabbed most of my clothes.”

Yuuri blinked. “Your clothes.” Then he gave Victor a sad smile. “You know, I’m not surprised. And you got your saddlebags out. But…all those wonderful things you had in there…” Victor’s face fell, and Yuuri realized he wasn’t helping matters. “Come with me to Biscuit. Do you want a drink?”

“Depends on which kind.”

“I’ve got a few.” As they began to walk toward the stable, where they’d left the horses once it was clear the building was in no danger of burning down, Yuuri asked him, “Have you got food?”

“I’ve got provisions in my saddlebags. Those will last a while. And of course there’s water in the well.”

“Can we get you set up with a place to sleep?” Yuuri queried further, a knot twisting in his stomach. If this were anyone else, even a complete stranger, he wouldn’t hesitate to ask him to ride back to the Star and Bar with him, where he could rest up and get something decent to eat. But he couldn’t bring Victor back there with him; he just couldn’t. He told himself he was protecting them both, but the truth was that he wanted to try to think of those parts of his life as if they were safely separated in their own snow globes. And Victor’s and May’s must not mix under any circumstances. Though perhaps, in a way, it was too late and they already had. 

“I’m good at making do,” Victor said with a smile that did not touch his eyes. “There are piles of hay in the forge that I can sleep on. And a stove. Funnily enough, it might be nice to be next to a fire overnight. There’s a stack of firewood in there that’ll last for a while.”

Yuuri continued to ask him about temporary arrangements that would work until he had time to think about what to do next. But each answer Victor gave just fed the tension tension further, as Yuuri imagined leaving him up here on his own with that smoking skeleton of a cabin, living like a vagrant. Yet he continued in this vein, hating himself for it all the while.

When they entered the little stable, which contained four stalls, Yuuri pulled his canteen out and they both had a drink. Then he got his hip flask out and they shared that as well.

Victor raised an eyebrow upon tasting it. “That’s lovely.”

“Single malt Scottish whiskey,” Yuuri said, sipping some more. “I figure I can afford something nice now and then these days, so why not.”

When they were done, Yuuri put the flask back in his saddlebags, taking a great deal of time about it. “I…I need to go back to the ranch. People get worried.”

“Yes,” came the quiet response.

Yuuri fastened the straps, then turned to Victor, who was standing silent and still next to him. His blue eyes were steadily returning his gaze. But Yuuri thought he saw his hand tremble before he shoved it into the pocket of his duster.

A storm was brewing inside of Yuuri, worse than any turmoil he had so far experienced. Leaving Victor like this went against every instinct, every beat of his heart. He would never treat anyone else like this after what they had just been through. Could he really be such a monster? And yet the fact that he hadn’t resolved a single thing in his mind before he’d come here again made him freeze, and he didn’t know what to say. He was afraid that anything he did say or decide would be the wrong choice. _Oh god_ , he thought miserably. Victor could have died in that fire. Yuuri thought he _was_ dead, for years. And yet he was standing in front of him now. How, _how_ could he just walk away from him like this?

What Victor said next sent a jolt through him. “Yuuri…I was thinking. I’ve lost a lot of things, and I wouldn’t be able to use the cabin for months even if I started repairing it. Maybe…” He paused, and the look in his eyes was intense and somber. “Maybe it’s best if I take what I’ve got left, and go.”

Surely he couldn’t have heard him correctly, Yuuri thought. “What?” he said simply.

Victor gave a small sigh, as if it pained him to repeat it. “It might solve some problems. Maybe it’s best if I go.” There was no bitterness or accusation in his tone. Just weariness, perhaps.

Yuuri’s eyes widened, and he swallowed and stared. A heavy silence hung in the air.

“No,” he said very quietly.

Another pause; then Victor said quietly as well, “What reason is there for me to stay?”

“You know,” Yuuri whispered.

The storm broke.

Yuuri grabbed Victor’s shoulders and pulled him toward him, surging forward himself to kiss him passionately. Every raw nerve, every ache of longing expressed itself in the hard press of his lips and his tight embrace. Victor seemed momentarily startled, but then he wrapped his arms around Yuuri, and Yuuri could feel the tension ebb out of him as his shoulders dropped, he bent forward slightly, and reciprocated, first tentatively, and then with equal fervor. Yuuri licked into his mouth, and they both moaned as their tongues caressed and danced. Then the kiss was punctuated by little gasps for air and nuzzles of cheeks and chins and noses; hands were raking through hair, fingers skating over faces and necks, mouths kissing, licking, nipping, and breaking into delighted smiles, inches away from each other. Touching Victor again like this was bliss. It went on and on and Yuuri didn’t want it to ever end.

“I love you, damn it, I love you and I never stopped,” Yuuri said as his tears flowed freely. He quickly wiped them away and smiled against Victor’s cheek, which he discovered was also wet. Then they both spoke so fast that their words ran together. “I wanted to tell you. More than anything.”

“I love you too, Yuuri. So much.”

“It was so hard – I wanted to hold you, and I couldn’t.”

“I know – I felt the same.”

“God, I missed you.”

“Yuuri… _dusha moya_.”

“I’m going to ask this time,” Yuuri said, his breaths uneven. “What does that mean?”

Victor just looked at him, his eyes sparkling, his cheeks pink. Then he said with a slight tremor in his voice, “My heart. My soul.”

“Victor,” Yuuri whispered, cupping his cheek.

They kissed again, and hugged each other like their lives would end if they let go. Yuuri shuddered and wept in relief and joy. Victor’s tears were in his hair. But the world kept on turning, and the minutes were going by; and however much he wanted to take this moment and keep it in its perfection forever, Yuuri knew it was impossible.

“I really better go,” he said at last. “I’ll be traveling in the dark soon.”

A spark of fear leaped into Victor’s eyes. Their faces were still almost touching. His bangs brushed Yuuri’s forehead, and his breath fanned Yuuri’s cheek. “You’ll come back?” he whispered, and Yuuri was struck by the vulnerability in his tone. “Please say you will. Don’t leave me…not after this.”

Yuuri didn’t know if “this” referred to the fire, or what they were doing now, or both. But it didn’t matter. “Never,” he said firmly. Then he pulled back and gave Victor a level gaze. “I’ll be back just as soon as I can. I’ll get you some supplies from town. Give me a few days. You…have you got enough to last you a little while?”

“Yuuri,” Victor said, obviously aiming for the old sultry, drawn-out pronunciation of his name, but missing the mark this time by sniffling and wiping his cheek. “Once a cowboy, always a cowboy.” When Yuuri smiled and chuckled, he added sadly, “The whittling you gave me is gone. And Cookie.”

“I’ll make you some new and better ones,” Yuuri said, his eyes shining. “And Cookie will always be a happy memory.” He just shook his head and laughed again and said, “You.”

They kissed each other goodbye, and Yuuri put his hat on and mounted Biscuit, hooking a lantern over the saddle for later. And when he smiled one last time at Victor before his horse took him down the hill, his heart felt lighter than it had in years.


	60. Chapter 60

When Yuuri returned to the house and a worried May, he told her about helping to put the log cabin fire out. He was honest with her, apart from changing Victor into a young couple who didn’t know a great deal about being self-sufficient in the mountains, and were grateful for the help. He said he’d gotten on well with them and had promised to come back in a few days with some supplies. May tutted for a moment about the lack of common sense in isolating themselves up there, away from the support they clearly needed, and said it sounded like a good idea for Yuuri to spend some time teaching them a few things if he could spare it. She wanted to prepare some food for him to take when he went back, and he tried to talk her out of it, but she insisted on giving him some provisions at least – it was no problem, and she wanted to help too. Then she told Yuuri to change his soot-stained clothes, and she would wash them for him.

Everything she said was a spike of guilt driven into Yuuri’s heart. He already felt like a lowlife for taking advantage of May’s good nature like this. But he’d finally stepped forward and made a decision, and he was going to stick to it. He’d push the guilt aside for now; no doubt it would seep back later. For once he had something to be happy about; something that made him feel alive in a way he hadn’t in a long time: he had Victor.

He spent the next few days thinking of little else. It felt like falling in love all over again; like riding on a cloud. And if the people around him were enjoying the fact that he was in such a good mood, that was an added bonus. Every time the guilt tried to come crawling back, he kicked it away.

He decided it was reasonable to plan a return trip Friday afternoon, which would give him the better part of a couple of days to do what he needed and visit Clearwater. He told May he would return to the ranch on Sunday, which meant he would spend two nights away. In town, he took pleasure in finding things he thought might make Victor’s life easier in the aftermath of the fire: kitchen utensils; towels; personal items like a toothbrush and comb, soap (he was able to find some that was rose-scented), and a shaving kit with a mirror, in case he didn’t have any in his saddlebags; cooking utensils; a few tin plates and cups; food and drink. He was limited in what he could take with him on one trip, and knew Victor could visit the town himself later and get what he needed, but maybe this would help him get back on his feet at least.  

So it was that Friday afternoon he found himself riding Biscuit across the range and toward the foothills again. The cottonwoods were busily shedding their orange and yellow leaves, and stood out in sharp contrast to the stands of pines, especially closer to the mountains. A sharp breeze blew, but the low ground had not yet seen its first snowfall of the season. Yuuri would ordinarily have loved to ride out here at this time of year, and he felt a fluttering warmth inside at the prospect of seeing Victor again, with no more pretenses between them. But to do that, Yuuri was aware of having initiated pretenses elsewhere; and no matter how determined he was not to think about anything that would bring the guilt back – at least, not this weekend – he was aware of a constant discomfort somewhere inside. It was like wearing a shirt made of a rough material that scratched enough to make you a little on edge without drawing your full attention to it. He wondered if this was the way things were going to be, now.

He nibbled a basic evening meal of jerky, cornbread and apples while near a stream, where he filled his canteen and Biscuit had a drink. In another hour, he was riding Biscuit up the hill to Victor’s cabin. The low sun shone golden through the pines as he made his way into the clearing.

There was the charred shell of the cabin. It looked like Victor had cleared away what had remained of the shed. A stale smoky odor still hung over the ruins. Yuuri led Biscuit to the stable, where he was pleased to see a healthy-looking Luchik, and left her in a stall, hauling his bags across the clearing to the forge. Yellow light was spilling from the front windows, and as he neared, he could hear sawing noises. The aroma of woodsmoke drifted from the chimney. He smiled and depressed the latch on the door, then pulled it open slowly and shut it again behind him.

His smile widened as he took in the sight of Victor across the room, his hair glowing in the light of a large bright oil lamp on a countertop next to him as he bent over a thick wooden plank fastened to a sawhorse. He seemed not to have heard Yuuri come in; the saw in his hand flashed and glinted as it continued to move back and forth. The pleasantly warm workroom was filled with the smell of sawdust, woodsmoke from the fire blazing in the stove, kerosene, and hay. As Yuuri glanced around, he saw that Victor must have been sleeping in a big pile of it; his bedroll had been left there, along with a blanket. There were a couple of basic-looking stools sitting to the side of the stove, and if Yuuri had a guess, he would have said it looked as if Victor was making a table. _You’ve been very busy_ , he thought in admiration; and he simply stood for a moment, watching the rhythm of Victor’s movements, and the muscles in his arms flex. He was wearing his tan woolen pants and a white shirt that was rolled up at the sleeves, his vest absent. _And you are just as beautiful as ever, if not more._ Yuuri felt a pulse of desire.

Victor seemed to sense that he was being observed, paused in his work, and looked up. When he took in the sight of Yuuri, his blue eyes danced. There were several days’ worth of stubble on his face; it was a shade darker than his hair, and while Yuuri wasn’t used to seeing him like this, he thought it was fetchingly different. Victor put his saw down, stood, and brushed sawdust off his shirt. “Yuuri,” he said with a smile.

“Hi.” Yuuri smiled idiotically back. They could stand this way forever and he’d be happy, he thought. “Is it OK if I come in?” he asked softly.

Victor chuckled, wiping sweat and sawdust from his hands onto his pants, and made his way across the earthen floor toward him. “You don’t need an invitation. It’s good to see you.”

There was still a bit of awkwardness between them. Yuuri placed his bags on the floor next to the door where he was standing, then took his Stetson and coat off and dropped them on top. He thought of all the things that had previously crossed his mind to mention or ask about. What Victor was making in here. How he was getting along with recovering from the fire; how he seemed to essentially be living here in the forge, and what that was like. How he was for food. How he was feeling. Anything at all.

But as Victor came to stand in front of him, so close, and then after an uncertain pause brushed his fingers down his cheek, with such a fond look in his gaze, Yuuri’s mind shut itself down. There was only one thing he wanted – _needed –_ in that moment. Before he was himself aware of it, he’d circled his arms around Victor’s neck, his fingers running through the short hairs at the nape, and was kissing him hungrily. He felt Victor place his palms on his neck above the top of his bandanna, and moaned as Victor’s tongue circled his own. With shaking fingers, Yuuri began to unbutton Victor’s shirt.

Victor broke the kiss and held Yuuri’s gaze, his breaths shallow. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked, looking concerned.

Yuuri stared at him, heat thrumming through his veins, and forced himself to speak. “Yes. God, yes.” He paused and then said, “That is, if you…?”

Victor huffed a low laugh. “You need to ask?” He pressed Yuuri back against the wall and ground their hips together, looking at him darkly. Yuuri let out a groan, and redoubled his efforts at getting Victor’s buttons undone, while Victor untied Yuuri’s bandanna in the back and let it fall.

“I want you,” Yuuri said, bucking his hips against him and pulling Victor’s shirt off his shoulders. “So much I can hardly stand it.”

Victor’s breaths came quickly as he undid Yuuri’s shirt. “You smell like you,” he said, pressing a kiss to Yuuri’s temple. “I missed it. I want to be wrapped up in you…I want there to be nothing between us.”

Yuuri’s breath hissed out. Then he suddenly paused as his eyes traveled across the beautiful curves of Victor’s chest and saw, just below his left collarbone, an angry-looking circular pink depression with a pucker on the inside, growing whiter around its edges. All at once, the heady cocktail of desire suffusing him transformed itself into an aching tenderness. He reached out a hand and placed it lightly over the scar, gazing at Victor in wonder. Victor’s fingers stopped where they were working on Yuuri’s shirt, and his eyes met his with something that looked like sadness. Wordlessly, Yuuri bent his knees so that his face was level with the top of Victor’s chest, wrapped his arms around him, and, closing his eyes, gently kissed the old wound. He heard Victor sigh, and a hand cupped the back of Yuuri’s head.

“That was a long time ago now, baby,” Victor said quietly. “I’m OK.”

Yuuri squeezed his eyelids more firmly shut when he heard the old term of endearment, and tightened his grip around Victor’s chest. “I love you,” he whispered.

“Come here.”

Victor’s fingers were under his chin, lifting. Yuuri stood up, a confusing mix of emotions cascading through him as the ghosts of memories awoke. But then Victor’s arms were around him and they were kissing again – slow, loving, reassuring. Yuuri enjoyed stroking the stubble on Victor’s jaw with his fingertips. Gradually they fanned the flame back to life, their kisses and caresses becoming more urgent, until Yuuri was longing for a more intimate connection, the pain of the past laid to rest for now. It felt as if the intervening years had never occurred, and they were back in the stable at the Circle C.

“We don’t have to worry about anybody seeing us – or hearing us,” Yuuri said, breaking away with a smirk. In fact, the awareness of their privacy in this place after all that time spent sneaking around the ranch made him feel slightly giddy and playful. What a relief it was. He sauntered away from Victor, discarding his vest and shirt, then his boots and socks, then his pants and drawers, leaving them in a trail across the floor. This part of the room lay in soft shadow, gently illuminated by the fire. When he reached the pile of hay where Victor had obviously been sleeping, Yuuri moved the bedroll and blanket aside and sank down into it, luxuriating in the old familiar earthy smell and soft yet prickly texture surrounding him. He rested his hands behind his head and shifted his hips in a shameless display as Victor stood and watched with widening eyes. “Well? Are you going to join me, or am I going to have to take care of this by myself?” he purred, giving his swollen cock a teasing stroke.

“Holy shit,” Victor breathed. He couldn’t get the rest of his clothes off fast enough, and soon joined Yuuri, carefully moving until he was leaning over him. “I’d give anything to watch you do it,” he said in a trembling voice, “but I want to be with you this time. It…it’s been so long since we did this together.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri said softly, then tilted his head up to steal a kiss. Their tongues tangled, and they rocked their bodies as much as the dry friction between them would allow. With a heave, Yuuri turned them over so that Victor was underneath him. He smiled and picked some straws of hay out of the blond wisps of hair, then worked a trail of kisses down Victor’s neck and over his chest. He had wanted to spend time unhurriedly rediscovering this amazing person, and allowing Victor to do the same with him, but he soon realized that one session, or even ten, wouldn’t be enough, after all the time they’d been apart. He began to pump Victor’s cock with one hand, while leaning down to kiss him wetly, until Victor was making little needy, whimpering noises against his lips.

“Together,” Victor mouthed against him, taking him in hand. Yuuri let out a shaky breath, but stilled him.

Victor watched uncomprehendingly as Yuuri scrambled away from the hay, grabbed his vest and pulled something out of a pocket, then returned, holding a small brown bottle. “Tilt yourself up a little,” he said, and Victor complied, eyeing him curiously. Yuuri straddled his lap and started pouring oil into his hand while giving Victor a smoldering look.

“Oh you good boy,” Victor murmured, his eyes glittering.

Yuuri slicked them both, lingering to stroke Victor a few more times. Then, after pouring more oil into his palm, he quickly slicked his entrance, stoppered the bottle, and put it down on the floor, then rubbed the excess oil off on his thighs.

“Do you need me to – ” Victor began.

“No,” Yuuri cut him off. “It’s OK.”

He gripped Victor’s cock and held it in position, and Victor’s eyes shot open in surprise as Yuuri sank straight down onto him. He moved his hands to rest on Victor’s shoulders, the feel of being filled with him again sending shocks of pleasure through his body. Tilting his head back, he closed his eyes and moaned; and he heard Victor do the same. Victor’s fingers skimmed down Yuuri’s chest and waist and began to knead his ass as Yuuri made sinuous movements back and forth, breathy sighs and hums spilling from between his lips. His cock slid up and down Victor’s solid abdomen with every undulation.

“Oh, Yuuri…” Victor whispered hoarsely, continuing with a stream of Russian as he began to thrust up into him, matching his rhythm.

Yuuri’s eyes were shut tight against the building waves of pleasure, but he made himself open them, and found Victor’s gazing back at him. It felt like they were wordlessly asking and answering questions: _Is this really happening? How did we get so lucky to find each other again? Can you believe how amazing this feels – did you forget? Will you want more with me? Yes, yes, please, yes._

Yuuri leaned over and shared a sloppy kiss, his conscious focus diminishing. “I’m not going to last long,” he muttered in an apologetic tone.   

“Let go then, sweetheart,” Victor whispered back. “You’re so beautiful when you come.” He tilted forward and laved his tongue over a nipple, while thrusting harder and faster, digging his fingers into Yuuri’s taut muscles and pulling him down onto his cock.

It was too much sensation to be contained, the pressure mounting like a dam about to burst. “Victor – _yes_ ,” Yuuri choked out; and then ecstasy bordering on pain shattered him into a thousand pieces. But Victor was there, holding him through it, stroking his back and whispering praises against his chest, as he gradually came back to himself with ragged breaths.

“Oh my god,” Yuuri panted, “that was…that was…” His voice trailed off. “But…you haven’t…” He paused, then gave Victor a little smile, his eyes full of promise. “What would you like me to do for you?”

Victor already had something in mind, it seemed. He asked Yuuri to fetch the pitcher and basin on the counter, along with the soap and cloth next to them, and bring them over, which he did. “Will you use your mouth on me?” he asked, eyes shining with want as he skated his fingertips through Yuuri’s release on his abdomen. “I’ve missed that.”

Yuuri looked at him darkly, kneeling on the hay between his legs, the pitcher and basin within arm’s reach on the floor. He would take Victor right now if his body would let him. With his legs casually splayed in front of him as he reclined in the hay, his hair mussed, cheeks and lips rosy, and wickedly jutting cock, the sight of him was utterly sensual. Yuuri’s breath hitched in his throat, and he realized he was staring. He tore his eyes away and poured some water from the pitcher into the basin, then wet the cloth, wrung it out, and cleaned Victor’s abdomen first, that pair of blue eyes following him all the while. Rinsing the cloth in the basin, he put a little soap on it – the scent of lavender floated up – and he used it to clean more intimate areas.

Struck by a sudden idea, he put the cloth down and lathered the soap, breathing in its pleasant fragrance, and decided to have some fun and see where it led. He began to pump Victor’s cock with one soapy hand, loving the feel and movement of the velvety skin over the rock-hard core. He heard Victor shudder out a surprised breath. With his other hand, Yuuri teased beneath, kneading and pulling at Victor’s balls, running his fingers along his perineum, and circling around his entrance. He seemed to be achieving the desired effect; soon Victor was twitching and making a litany of throaty noises. He lifted a hand to his forehead, palm outward. Yuuri experienced the old spark of power and grinned mischievously, squeezing more tightly as he stroked.

Victor was close; he arched his back and cried out. “Please…”

A shiver ran down Yuuri’s back and down to his groin. It wasn’t often he remembered Victor begging like this, and it felt intoxicating. He was fairly certain he knew what Victor wanted as well. He ceased his ministrations, wet the cloth, and washed the lather off. Then, locking their eyes in a heated gaze, Yuuri grabbed the base of Victor’s cock with one hand, pulled it toward him, and licked a stripe up the underside, his tongue firm, then sank his mouth down and moaned. Victor scrabbled helplessly at the hay on either side of him as Yuuri began to bob his head, hollowing his cheeks, his rhythm quick and merciless. He could feel Victor lifting his hips off the hay, struggling to restrain himself from bucking them.

Yuuri felt almost drunk with power. Maybe it was because this was their first coupling in a long time, or maybe – he liked to think – he’d gained some skill and confidence from his mentor, who was now lying here writhing in front of him like sex incarnate. He decided to try something he hadn’t done before, and hoped he could make it work. “Do it,” he said in a firm voice. “Fuck into my mouth. I can take it. I _want_ it.” He added the last words for effect and saw Victor’s eyes widen; his mouth dropped open, but he was clearly at a loss to articulate anything.

Assuming the invitation would be accepted, Yuuri sank his mouth back down onto Victor’s cock and removed his hand from it, instead reaching under him and cupping his buttocks. They were still wonderfully firm, and Yuuri felt them flex as Victor thrust up into him. His hands slipped through Yuuri’s hair to cradle the back of his head, more incomprehensible Russian escaping him in gasps. Thankfully he still had enough self-control to take it carefully; Yuuri wasn’t quite sure what to expect, and gagged slightly when Victor penetrated too far. But he also found it erotic, and after just a dozen thrusts or so, Victor was groaning loudly and coming hard. Yuuri swallowed, then rocked back onto the hay and licked his lips, giving Victor a crooked grin with hooded eyes.

Victor just lay panting for a moment, staring back at Yuuri like he’d stepped onto earth straight from heaven. Yuuri’s heart filled with love for him. He loved that it still felt so good and right for them to be together, after everything they’d been through and all their time apart; and he loved that they could pleasure each other so intensely. His smile broadening, he climbed over the hay and snuggled next to Victor, draping an arm over his chest and pressing a gentle kiss against his shoulder. “ _Aishiteru_ , Vitya,” he whispered.

Victor brushed a palm over his cheek and ran his fingers softly through his hair. “ _Ya lyublyu tyebya,_ Yuuri. I’m so glad you came back to me.”

“You too. All that time you were looking for me, I…I still can’t believe you did that. I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything, my love,” Victor whispered. “Just be here with me.” He closed his eyes and sighed.

They wrapped their arms around each other and lay that way for a long time. Yuuri nuzzled into the crook of Victor’s neck and breathed in his heat and scent, feeling a sense of peace that seemed to have eluded him for years. Victor lightly traced patterns across his back with his fingers. He felt himself drifting off.

“So tired so soon, _detka_?” came Victor’s low, quiet voice after a while. Yuuri opened his eyes and met his calm, even gaze.

“There’s nothing else I’d rather be doing. I dreamed of this, but I never thought it would happen again.”

Victor kissed his forehead. “Me too.”

“But I guess it _is_ early still.”

“Well. I’m not in any hurry to move.”

“Oh – I just remembered.” Yuuri laughed as he sat up. “You distracted me.” He brushed his fingertips across Victor’s rough chin. “You have a habit of doing that, you know. I brought you some things. They’re in the bags I left by the door.”

Victor’s eyes lit up. “Oh?”

“Yeah. We’d better put some clothes on. Though that’s always a shame in your case,” Yuuri added with a smirk.

“I’d say the same about you. But I suppose you’re right.”

They both got up from the hay, reaching out to brush stray strands off each other and giggling, then gathered their clothes from the floor and donned them. Yuuri walked over to his bulging saddlebags; he’d also filled a separate leather one.

“What’s all this?” Victor asked curiously. “I hope you haven’t brought me too much. I’m a self-sufficient man, you know.”

Yuuri huffed a laugh as he undid the straps and ties on the bags. “Like hell you are. Nobody is.”

The corner of Victor’s mouth turned up. “Let’s look at what you’ve got on the counter over there,” he said, lifting one of the bags. There was only the one countertop, but it ran much of the length of the far side of the room, on top of a crudely built cabinet that had aged and warped over time, but was obviously still good to use. Woodworking tools, a tape measure, pencils and paper, and various other items occupied the end near the stove, while the other end near the hay pile was where Yuuri had found the pitcher and basin. They put the bags down in the middle, and Yuuri began to unpack the leather one. It had been what he’d brought that day to take the bearskin home in, but it was serving a more useful purpose now.

He pulled out the toothbrush and comb, towels and other personal items, and Victor picked them up and looked them over. “I wasn’t sure what you had in your saddlebags and what you’d lost in the fire,” Yuuri said, “but if there are duplicates of some things, I don’t suppose it matters.”

Victor took the bar of soap and held it under his nose, inhaling. “Yuuri, you remembered. My favorite. It’s lovely.” Then he investigated the shaving kit and mirror on a stand that Yuuri took out next, and fell silent. Yuuri looked at him and found him gazing back in wonder.

“What? Something wrong?”

“No, no, it’s just…you didn’t need to bring me all this,” Victor said quietly.

“You obviously haven’t shaved in a while. Unless this is your new mountain-man look? It’s kind of rugged, I suppose. Not that I mind, but I know how much you used to like shaving.”

Victor unscrewed the lid on the pot of shaving soap and smelled that too. “Wow. This is going to be a treat.” He put it down. “I…thank you. I wouldn’t have asked – ”

“You were always so good to me. Let me help you for once,” Yuuri said with a small smile. “What did survive the fire, anyway?”

Victor’s eyes flicked over to the windows across the room near the door, where the remains of the cabin stood in the darkness. “The pitcher and basin were still good to use – I thought they might be cracked, but I was lucky I guess. A few pots and pans, and some baking trays. I’ve got a big tin bathtub that I kept outside unless I was using it, so that’s OK too.” He looked at Yuuri. “I’ll definitely have to bring that in here and fill it up.”

“That sounds like fun,” Yuuri said with a smile. “I guess the rest of the stuff I brought should help, until you can get into town for whatever else you need.” He pulled out some tin plates and cups, wooden utensils and cutlery, then started on his saddlebags. “Some of these things came from the general store, and some are from the ranch. I wasn’t sure if you had anything left in your vegetable patch.” He drank in the delighted look on Victor’s face as he unpacked flour, sugar, salt, coffee, a loaf of bread, potatoes, apples, carrots, beets, corn on the cob, beans, dried fruit, jerky, lard, and bacon. From the cows and hens on the ranch he’d brought eggs, milk and butter, as well as beefsteaks. “Have you got someplace cold to put this?” he asked, indicating the milk and steaks.

“There’s a wooden chest outside. I’ve done some hunting and have got some duck in there…Yuuri, I don’t know what to say.” He chuckled. “You’re spoiling me.”

“I’m not finished yet. I thought you might like these.” Yuuri pulled out a bottle of the Scottish whiskey he’d filled his hip flask with, and with a flourish produced a bottle of vodka, laughing at Victor’s exclamation of delight. “I thought I’d check with Sven at the Ball and Chain, and it turned out he had some to sell. I’ve never tasted it myself.”

“We’ll have to fix that, then. Oh, it’s been _ages_ since I’ve had any of this.”

Yuuri’s smile faded as he took out the last items. “Um…these are from May. She…she thinks I’m helping out a young couple up here. That’s…what I told her.” Victor just looked at him steadily as he continued. “She insisted I bring them.” There were two jars of homemade blackberry jam, and cornbread and an apple pie in separate tins. “I didn’t know what else to do…I thought it’d be nice for you to have them.”

Victor opened both tins and inhaled the aroma of the contents. “They smell wonderful.” He replaced the lids and looked again at Yuuri. “Please thank her on behalf of the young couple.” His expression was unreadable. “She knows nothing about us, past or present? You’ve never mentioned me to her at all?”

Yuuri looked down, his cheeks pinking, and shook his head. “No,” he muttered.

When nothing else was forthcoming, Victor gave a little cough and picked up the milk and steaks. “I’ll put these outside – then maybe you’d like to share some of this delicious feast with me?”

***

In the end, neither being very hungry, Victor suggested they have some of the apple pie, and he opened the vodka and poured it into the tin cups that Yuuri had brought. It was strong, so he drank it in small sips, and it tasted a little like bread dough, he thought. While Victor seemed pleased with it, he decided he’d prefer it himself mixed with other things, but it certainly wasn’t bad. And May’s apple pie was as fantastic as ever, though that just made him feel worse; Yuuri didn’t want to be thinking about her here – about the lies he’d told her, about leaving Victor and going back to the ranch. He ate the food with a dry throat and then fetched some fresh water from the well, pouring it into a tin jug he’d brought.

They sat on the stools in front of the fire, which Victor had stoked, and sipped some of the whiskey while reminiscing about the Circle C. Yuuri asked Victor if he’d had any news from there, but he said his communications with Chris had been brief, infrequent, and vague out of necessity. Yuuri mentioned again how wonderful it felt to have privacy here; how everything you did, made, grew, produced would be your own; and your time was yours to do with as you saw fit. But it was an isolated place, and it seemed far from ideal for Victor to be living out of a one-room workshop like this. Victor didn’t disagree with anything he said. What was he making in here, Yuuri asked, and what could they do to ensure that he could move back into the cabin as soon as possible?

“That depends, I guess,” he answered.

“On?”

“Well…if you intend to come back.” Victor held his eyes for a moment, then looked at his mug as he drank from it.

“Victor…” Yuuri leaned forward and spoke emphatically. “…I’d never leave you here on your own.”

Victor’s voice was soft, with no malice, but his eyes found Yuuri’s again. “Were you intending to stay here tonight, or go back?”

“Of course I’ll stay. I told them I’d be back late Sunday afternoon. If…if that’s OK with you?”

Victor gave him a small grin. “That’s OK.”

“And I’m going to keep coming back,” Yuuri added fervently. “As often as I can. I’ll help you get back on your feet; I’ll do whatever you want. Bring you things from town or the ranch, if you need them. I…I just want to be with you, Victor.”

Victor seemed to be reflecting as he finished his whiskey. He eyed Yuuri in that curious way again. “All right.”

As for his question about what Victor had been making, Yuuri soon had his answer as he was put to work sanding some wooden planks by the light of a lantern. Victor had shown him how he was making the table; he described it as rustic, along with the stools, being only very basic because they were things that were immediately useful. He would perhaps make a bed next, but he also needed to think about repairs to the cabin. Sometime in the more distant future he’d no doubt find the time to make some nicer tables, chairs and cabinets. He said he kept learning as he went along, and he would be happy for Yuuri to help him. Tomorrow they could talk about a more definite plan of action. For now, Yuuri was doing a lovely job of sanding; would he like to do some hand drilling next? Yuuri worked in contentment, enjoying the smell of pine from the sawdust and the pleasant burn of his muscles as he performed the various tasks that Victor asked of him. He’d never imagined himself learning woodworking skills, but here he was, acting the student again under Victor’s patient tutelage.      

Eventually Victor tossed some more logs on the fire and suggested they turn in. “Would you like to join me in the bedroll?” he asked. “It gets cold in here, especially as the fire dies down through the night.”

That was something else Yuuri had sorely missed. “I’d love to.”

Victor brought the oil lamp with him as they returned to the pile of hay. He placed it on the floor and stripped completely as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do. Unable to suppress a grin, Yuuri did the same.

“Actually,” Victor said, looking down thoughtfully, “do you mind if we…just lie here and hold each other for a while, where we’ve got more space, before we get into the bedroll?”

“Is that all you had in mind?” Yuuri said in mock disappointment.

Victor moved the bedroll aside and put it next to the blanket that he’d folded away earlier. “Come over here and we’ll see.” He lay down on his side in the hay, and Yuuri did the same, so that they were facing each other.

“Remember how we used to have to hide under a blanket in the stable at the Circle C when we were doing this?” Yuuri said with a smile. “I can touch you without worrying that someone’s going to walk in. I love it.” He leaned forward for a kiss. Their immediate passions having been quenched earlier, Yuuri felt able to take things more slowly this time, and savor; he gently explored Victor’s mouth with langorous sweeps of his tongue while they caressed each other’s faces.

“Do the men on your ranch sleep in a bunkhouse?” Victor asked, briefly breaking their kiss but hovering close.

“They do.”

“Well…since you know what it’s like, maybe you could think of a way to give them some more privacy.”

Yuuri considered for a moment. “Maybe that’s not a bad idea. Yeah, I’ll think about it. I don’t have to copy what everybody else does, do I? I don’t brand the cattle. I’m fencing in the open range. And I still tame mustangs, thanks to you.”

Victor kissed his top lip, then his bottom one. “Hmm. I think I’d like to have you as my boss.”

“I know the first thing I’d tell you to do,” Yuuri sighed, playfully kissing him in return.

“Oh?”

“Fuck me.”

Victor gave a low chuckle and wrapped his legs around Yuuri’s. “I like the sound of that,” he said a little shakily. “It’s almost too sexy to bear. But I’d have to insist you had a turn too. I’ve missed the feel of you inside me.” He glanced over at the brown bottle that was still on the floor, and before Yuuri could reply, added, “I meant to ask you…that bottle you brought. What’s in it?”     

“Hm? Oh…that’s olive oil. I found it in town; no one seemed to have any almond oil.”

“I see. So this…seduction was planned beforehand,” he said in a teasing tone.

“Might have been.”

“Poor innocent, unsuspecting me.”

Yuuri laughed heartily. “That’s ridiculous. And you didn’t complain.”

“No,” Victor said more soberly. “It felt incredible.”

Yuuri held his gaze, then took him in a long, lingering kiss, feeling the familiar coil of desire begin to wind tighter in his groin. “I’d never tried any other kind of oil before,” he said. “Well, I guess you know that. I wasn’t sure how well olive oil would work, so I tested it out first.”

Victor looked at him in curiosity, but seemed somewhat flustered as well. Yuuri tried to imagine what might be going through his head, and felt a stab in his stomach as he realized.

“Not with…um, just on myself. Alone,” he said, feeling his face flush.

After a pause, Victor relaxed. “It worked for the ancient Greeks and Romans,” he said, a grin spreading across his face. Then he lowered his voice. “Did you think of me while you were using it?”

Regaining his composure, Yuuri gave him a sultry look and a slight smirk but said nothing.

There was heat in Victor’s gaze now. “Will you show me what you did?” he asked quietly.

Yuuri felt a flutter of nervousness as he thought about it. Neither of them had done this with the other before, not as a deliberate display; and it took him back to those heady first days of getting to know each other, and the thrill of making sexual discoveries with Victor’s guidance, which had often been mixed with uncertainty and self-consciousness. He wasn’t usually comfortable with making an open show of anything to an audience. But hadn’t he ended up doing just that in the rodeos? Or, for that matter, only a few hours earlier, when he’d been lying here in the hay and playing with himself to entice Victor over? He suspected he _could_ put on a good show, if he got over that initial hurdle.

“I’ll start first…if you like?” Victor inflected it as a question. Yuuri felt his breath catch and nodded. Victor’s eyes held his as he shifted back slightly to put more space between them. The nervous fluttering was still there, but it was mixing now with an anticipation that made Yuuri’s pulse thrum.

Victor’s eyelids drifted shut as he lifted his free hand and trailed his long, slender fingers lightly across his chest, then slowly caressed his abdomen, up and down. He sighed contentedly. A shiver of want ran through Yuuri. He’d expected something immediately quick and brazen, but this was possibly even more arousing, watching Victor languidly pleasure the work of art that was his body. His hand moved down his hip and thigh as he propped his leg up, then skated back up to rub lightly over the inside where it met his groin, and he let out a hum, then opened his eyes to look at Yuuri, who was gazing back with naked desire. Returning his attention to what he was doing, Victor pulled lightly at his balls while giving them a squeeze, making more little noises of contentment. His cock twitched above his hand.

“Victor, oh god,” Yuuri moaned, feeling himself grow achingly hard.

“Why don’t you try,” Victor said in a voice that was like warm honey. He circled his fingers around the head of his cock and gave it a few luxuriant pulls. “It feels so good, Yuuri.”

Yuuri swallowed and tried to put a coherent thought together. It was an effort to briefly look away. Oil – where was the damn oil? Victor had asked him to show him what he’d done with it. The truth was that he’d spent a couple of sessions with it on his bed when no one else was in the house, making sure it worked as a good lubricant without burning or doing anything else odd or unpleasant, and preparing himself for Victor into the bargain – yes, thinking about Victor, and what he wanted to do with Victor, or have Victor do to him; with a lurking sickness at the bottom of it as he tried _not_ to think of what he and May did in this bed as well. He’d had no particular desire to touch that area in this way after he’d lost Victor years ago, not because he didn’t enjoy it, but because it just didn’t seem relevant to his life anymore. Though he was worked up enough now, he was sure, to give Victor a good show, if he could find the courage.

He rolled over, grabbed the bottle, and returned to meet Victor’s gaze once again, which was following everything he did. Taking a deep breath, he poured some oil into a hand, put the bottle back down, and slicked his fingers, then reached underneath and spread the rest of the oil around his entrance, curling his body slightly to make it easier to reach. Recalling how the sight of Victor teasing himself had been such a turn-on, he lifted a hand to tweak at a nipple, gasping, while he continued to circle and gently prod his entrance with the fingers of his other hand. His eyelids fluttered shut and he let out a groan.

“That’s it, baby,” he heard Victor’s voice, slightly husky now. “Show me. I could come just from watching you.”

Yuuri felt heat lick down his body, pooling in his groin. His breaths quickening, he plunged his middle finger into his entrance and moved it in a beckoning motion. When he found the pleasure spot there, he let out a little cry. Wondering what Victor was doing, he opened his eyes and saw his dark gaze on him while he made quick, firm tugs on his cock. His face was flushed a rosy pink, and he was panting. He lavished more praises on Yuuri in a breathy voice.

Yuuri’s eyes were glued to Victor. He wasn’t sure if he was slightly ashamed of himself for being so turned on by watching someone like this, but at the moment he was past caring. He grabbed his own cock and began stroking it frantically, bucking his hips while his finger continued its intimate rhythm. He tilted his head back, aware he was making noises but unable to focus on what they were. It had never been like this when he’d pleasured himself on his own. His knowledge of Victor’s appreciative gaze, the fact that he was aroused by what Yuuri was doing to himself, and Yuuri’s own knowledge of what Victor was doing, took the intensity of it all to a whole new level.

“I’m close, baby, I’m so close,” Victor whispered. “Will you open your eyes and look at me?”

Yuuri did as he was asked, and took in Victor with his blue eyes shining, lips gaping open, a lovely flush spreading down his neck, his hand pumping his cock at a blistering pace. “Fuck, Victor, you’re beautiful,” Yuuri gasped in awe.

It seemed that Yuuri wasn’t the only one who liked praise. Victor’s breaths quickly grew ragged, and he thrust his hips back and forth, then groaned Yuuri’s name as he spurted over his hand. The erotic sight plunged Yuuri over the edge as well, and he cried out as his own release rocked through him.

For a moment, the only noises in the room were their breaths, gradually slowing, and the crackling of the fire in the stove. An owl hooted somewhere outside.

Yuuri got up, fetched a towel and returned; and after they cleaned up, Victor put the bedroll on the hay, with the blanket nearby in case it was needed in the night. “Come on in,” he said, climbing inside.

Yuuri smiled and followed. “The only thing I don’t like about what we just did is that we didn’t touch each other. Maybe we can make up for it now.” Then Victor wrapped his arms around him, and it was peace and bliss.

“Of course, _solnyshko_.” He kissed the top of Yuuri’s head.

What Yuuri hadn’t expected was to be so suddenly and vividly reminded of the last time they did this. Of being torn out of the warm, safe cocoon the two of them had been sharing, and the terror and grief that followed. The sharp edges of the pain had been worn down by time; but, like the scar on Victor’s chest, it would always remain with him. His thoughts floated back to that dark moment when he’d considered trying to find the gun he’d tossed away, and ending everything. And all the while, Victor had been alive, and not far away.

Victor touched his cheek; his finger was wet. “Yuuri…what is it?” he asked softly.

“Sorry.” Yuuri wiped at his cheek. “Just remembering.”

“Oh,” Victor said, sounding like he suddenly understood. His arms around Yuuri tightened, and he kissed his forehead, then his nose. “Well, we can make some good memories now. We’ve already started. And the old ones aren’t all bad, are they?” He smiled and gave a little laugh. “Do you remember the first time you saw me riding at the Circle C?”

Yuuri felt a tug in his chest. Now his tears were born of nostalgia rather than loss. “Do you know…I think that might have been the best day of my life.” He stroked the prickles on Victor’s chin. “You cast a spell over me, Victor Nikiforov. And I’ve been under it ever since.”

Victor feathered a kiss over his lips. “I knew you were special from the first moment I saw you. I’m so glad we have another chance to be together like this.”

They reminisced a little more – about Abilene, rodeos, Christmas Eve with Clarissa, sharing drinks and dancing in the bunkhouse, their favorite places at and around the Circle C. For Yuuri it was a balm that soothed the hurt, and snuggling with Victor made it even better. Eventually they both drifted into a deep sleep, and knew nothing more until shafts of sunlight were spilling into the workshop.

In the morning, Victor insisted on making breakfast for them, even though Yuuri protested that he hadn’t intended to be eating the food he’d brought, as he had enough of his own back at the ranch. After eggs, bacon and apples, Victor asked Yuuri if he’d give him a shave, and Yuuri asked him to return the favor. They talked about what they could do regarding the cabin and the furniture, and spent some hours chopping pinewood and finishing the table Victor had been working on; he showed Yuuri how to seal it with beeswax, which filled the workshop with its sweet scent as he rubbed the block over the wood.

The rest of the weekend passed in a whirlwind of similar activities – chopping and preparing logs for the cabin, cooking, eating and working together, with easy silences and small talk. Their sex was free, impulsive, loving, and in turns playful and passionate. They pleasured each other as they took turns washing in the tub, which Victor had filled with water that he had warmed on the stove. They ground against each other in the bedroll; sipped whiskey and watched the sun go down together. Yuuri did some laundry for Victor in the tub and hung it from the rafters to dry. But it seemed like he’d hardly arrived before it was time for him to leave.

The act itself wasn’t getting any easier. Last time he’d been here, Yuuri had departed feeling full of euphoria after the first kisses they’d shared in years; but he’d been aware that he hadn’t wanted to go, and hated the fact that he had to, and had deliberately shoved those emotions aside. He felt them bubbling just below the surface like a tar pit waiting to suck him down.

Victor’s mouth was set in a stoical line, his expression difficult to read. “I’ll be back soon,” Yuuri promised, stroking his cheek as they said their goodbyes. “Be careful up here. Look after yourself.”

They shared a soft kiss. “You too,” Victor said quietly. He seemed unsure of what else he could add, and Yuuri was disturbed by the pain he seemed to see in his eyes. _I don’t want to leave you. I wish more than anything that I could stay. It’s an impossible situation. I just hope you understand. Please, Victor, understand…_

He nudged Biscuit down the hill, away from Victor and the cabin and the workshop; and somehow it felt like that tar pit was getting closer with every yard.


	61. Chapter 61

Victor stood and watched silently as Yuuri rode away and was swallowed by the pines, the shushing of hooves through piles of old dead leaves slowly fading until the only sound remaining was the sigh of the wind. It lifted Victor’s hair quietly and made his duster flap against his legs. There was a bite to it that presaged winter. He hadn’t lived through that season so high up in the mountains before, and it was disconcerting to imagine how much more raw and unforgiving he might find it here.

He wasn’t aware of having any neighbors, though he knew that in the mountains, you could live miles away from someone and still label them as such. Well if anyone _was_ around on a permanent basis, he hadn’t happened across them. The entire cabin could have burned down that day, and all of the outbuildings, and no one would have been the wiser. That was disconcerting to imagine, too. But Yuuri had seen. Yuuri had come. And if the two of them weren’t much of a match for the flames without mother nature opening the skies as she had done, Yuuri more than made up for it in the warmth and joy and companionship and so many other wonderful things he’d brought.

But he was gone now, again.

Still, it wasn’t as if Victor wasn’t used to this. Before the two of them had been reunited, he’d been living here on his own for six months or so, by his reckoning. Though it had been easy – as he’d fixed the place up, settled in, got on with the day-to-day business of survival, and made the odd trip to the range or the town – to forget how nice it was to have someone around. And now that that someone was _Yuuri_ …

It couldn’t be helped. Compared to that awful moment when they’d parted so soon after reuniting, when Victor hadn’t been certain whether he’d ever see Yuuri again at all…well, it was a relief. Even though he couldn’t be sure when Yuuri would be back. Just that he _would_ be. He’d promised.

And in the meantime, Victor would also promise himself to try not to think about what his desire to see Yuuri, and Yuuri’s desire to see him – now that he knew Victor was here – was doing, or going to do, to his life on the ranch with his family, which was clearly so important to him.

Fuck.

He strode into the workshop and warmed his hands over the dying fire. Too early to eat dinner. He wasn’t hungry anyway. At least now he had a table to eat off of when he was. Suddenly he remembered the vodka Yuuri had bought him, and poured a generous measure into his tin cup. The liquid licked flames down his throat and into his belly, and wrapped the shards of his thoughts in cotton wool. Maybe he should do some more work on the cabin. But it was late in the day, he and Yuuri had already done a lot that weekend, and it wouldn’t make much sense to try to get stuck back into it now.

Then it occurred to him that he’d somewhat neglected Luchik that day; so he finished off his serving of vodka, pulled his duster on, and made his way out to the stable, where he was greeted by a familiar whinny that cut through the silence. Victor stroked his neck and began to groom him while talking soothingly in Russian. Maybe he’d enjoy going on a ride before the sun went down. But to what end? He didn’t need to hunt at the moment. It seemed frivolous just to canter around with no purpose in mind. Ah! He knew now. The river wasn’t far away, and the valley along it was lush and flat – ideal for some trick riding. He really was getting out of practice, now that he wasn’t working on a ranch or performing in rodeos or shows. Whatever would Yakov say, he thought to himself, and a brief smile crossed his face.

He saddled Luchik up, led him out of the stable, and vaulted smoothly into the saddle. His glance flicked around; to the side of him was the straight wood-planked stable wall, leeward of the prevailing wind, further sheltered by overhanging pine boughs. The scent of needles and resin hung in the air. It was here, only yesterday, where he and Yuuri had…well. His heart gave a little leap and his cock twitched at the memory. He wasn’t even sure which one of them had initiated it; it had just happened seemingly of its own accord after they’d stabled their horses, both of them enjoying the novelty of being uninhibited outside with no one around to see them, and as full of hunger for each other as if it had been their first coupling.

He wondered if that was simply how things were going to pan out for them if they only saw each other occasionally, as opposed to sharing their day-to-day lives. Jonah had been the first lover he’d actually lived with outside of a bunkhouse, and after a while the initial desire had lost its urgency; though as Victor had never had the kinds of feelings for him that he’d had for others he’d been with long term, it didn’t work well as a comparison. Besides, Victor had never changed his mind about wanting to be with Yuuri every day – as opposed to the sort of arrangement people like Chris and Zach had – even if it did mean the sex became less frequent and exciting. It was one of many ways to express love, in his opinion, and the icing on the cake that was a solid relationship.

_Unless you’re allowing yourself to be collected, shown off and treated like a prize diamond, and then fucked senseless, or vice versa._ Well, that part of his life was over. He thought that one of the reasons – maybe even the main one – why sex with Yuuri was so amazing was _because_ they had such a good relationship in the first place.

_We did, when there wasn’t a third party involved. He doesn’t seem to have changed, either – he’s still the lovely, sweet, sincere man I knew. Fun to be with. Comfortable as your favorite boot. Sexy as hell._

_And married to somebody else._

_Jesus. I have to stop this._

He guided Luchik gradually downward until the ground flattened and the noise of water flowing over stones floated through the air. There he dismounted and started to stretch, while Luchik tore up mouthfuls of yellowing grass.

Sex with Yuuri. Icing on the cake, yes – but so decadent and sating when you hadn’t had it in years. And to think that gorgeous young man had been a virgin when Victor had met him; a torch all primed and waiting to be lit. You wouldn’t have thought so from the way he behaved that night at the hoedown, Victor thought with a smirk. This weekend was the first time he had been with anyone since Jonah, and Yuuri was everything he’d been waiting for. He’d been a bit selfish that first night, somehow succeeding in holding himself back while Yuuri was riding him, just so that he could re-experience that talented mouth after all those years. But he had no regrets about that.

He wondered if May enjoyed Yuuri like he himself did, and doubted it. She wouldn’t be able to satisfy Yuuri like he did either, he was sure of that.

_Shit – I told myself I wouldn’t do this. Stop stop stop._

He finished his stretches, remounted Luchik, and led him into a gallop, then started on routines he’d known and practiced for years until they were second nature. Though they weren’t quite feeling like second nature now, and he found he had to think more consciously about what he was doing. A foot slipped here. A handhold missed there. He loved this as much as ever, but how had he allowed himself to get so rusty?

May would slip into his thoughts occasionally, as she had now. No doubt she was kind, capable and beautiful; that was the sort of person Yuuri would choose. Victor saw her in his mind’s eye as a curvy silhouette with her hair done up, wisps curling around her face, a cotton dress billowing around her. Victor had never knowingly shared a partner with someone before; had certainly never dreamed Yuuri would be involved. It was a bit of a novelty that she was a woman, from his perspective, and he’d caught himself wondering occasionally about the things Yuuri did with her in bed. It was arousing, and disturbing, and he didn’t like himself much when those thoughts occurred. But it would be difficult to try to forget about her invisible presence during Yuuri’s visits. And Yuuri clearly did not like it when the subject was brought up. Well, that made two of them. Christ, what a mess.

He was standing on the back of the saddle now, and swayed as he lost his balance for a moment. Flinging his arms out and bending his knees, he steadied himself and clicked with his tongue for Luchik to slow down while he refocused. He guessed the vodka he’d drunk wasn’t helping matters.

Would Yuuri keep coming back? _Of course._ How often? _That I don’t know._ Once the cabin was rebuilt, and he no longer had that to use as a cover story for his trips here, what then? _I doubt even Yuuri knows._

That was the crux, though – Yuuri was searching for a solution to a difficult problem; one that was ultimately not of his making. When Victor tried to put himself in his shoes – to imagine what his love had experienced during his last days in Larkspur, and later after he’d fled – he didn’t honestly know what he would have done in his place, but grieved for the sorrows he must have gone through. And hadn’t he himself tried to move on, even though he’d had no reason to think anything other than that Yuuri was still alive?

He did a backflip. No problem. With another click of his tongue, Luchik sped up to a gallop again, and Victor struck a series of graceful poses. He needed to exercise and stretch more often; maybe he would have to get around to rebuilding some gymnastic apparatus again. That would be a lot of work, though. He suddenly felt the loss of it all, left behind at the Circle C; it had probably been chopped up and used as firewood long ago. Once he’d had it all built, he’d taken it with him as he’d moved from ranch to ranch. Well, he’d made do with basic things like rafters and beams across the floor at the livery stable in St. Louis; maybe that would work here.

As he moved into a handstand, he wondered again when Yuuri would come back.

_He’ll lose his family if he comes here too often. If I really do love him, I have to respect that part of his life. If it’s what he wants, I have to do my best to make it work._

He thought of the joy that had flooded through him, the euphoria, when Yuuri had kissed him that day after the fire. The reawakening of love that was so strong and bright, it was like staring at the sun sometimes. Though in a way that had happened as soon as he’d seen Yuuri shivering and cold out here by this very river, and rushed to help him. It had been there every minute afterward, when Victor had restrained himself from doing anything too intimate, and feared he might not see Yuuri again afterwards. It had never disappeared, and he didn’t believe it ever would.

And if things got uncomfortable at times, or unwanted thoughts intruded, he’d learn to ignore them. That was obviously the price to pay if he wanted to be with Yuuri.

_It’s worth it._

Bending his body in an arc to come out of the handstand, Victor’s foot slipped on the saddle and couldn’t catch its grip. He tried to rebalance, but had already put too much weight on it, and immediately felt himself sliding down the side of the saddle. He tried to click a signal to Luchik to slow down, but was too shocked by what had happened to make the right noise, and Luchik was going too fast to be able to stop on a dime. Victor came thudding hard to the earth, his breath rushing out as he landed on his rump, his ankle sending a jolt of pain up his leg. He blinked through a red haze as he watched Luchik slow down several yards ahead of him. His tailbone was in agony.

_It’s been years since I fell like that. What the hell._

_Can I even get up?_

A tear slid down his cheek and he groaned as he shifted. It hurt, it really did, but it didn’t feel like anything was broken. He moved his ankle in little circles. A sprain and no more, hopefully. With a quick shout he had Luchik trotting over, and grabbing a stirrup, he hauled himself gingerly onto his feet, his tailbone protesting angrily. That would probably bother him for days.

_If I got seriously injured, there’s no one to help. No smoke rising in the sky for someone like Yuuri to see. Dead meat, as they say._

_I need to be more careful, now that I’m on my own out here. Isn’t that what Yuuri told me to do?_

_My riding’s never been this out of control. I thought it was something I’d always be able to do. But even the most talented people need to practice. I know that._

With another loud moan of pain, he climbed back onto Luchik and clicked him into a slow, gentle walk back to the cabin, biting his lip and silently blinking back more tears.

***

It was dark by the time Yuuri arrived back at the ranch, and he guided Biscuit to the stable. Once there, he put her in her stall, removed the lantern from her saddle, placed it on a shelf, and decided he was not ready to go into the house yet. He picked up a brush and began grooming Biscuit’s mane.

His stomach had protested more and more, the further he’d ridden from the cabin, the closer he’d gotten to the ranch. While his mind had been focused on Victor one way or another during the past week, this was his reality for now, and he had to shift back into it somehow. And yet, it felt like he was tied to an invisible rope that stretched all the way to the hitching-post outside the stable near the cabin, which had pulled increasingly taut and was now compelling him more strongly than ever to return. Victor was there alone. Yuuri wanted to go straight back to him.

_Why don’t you?_

_Because I have a wife and child, damn it. I’m responsible for them, and I love them._ The thought hit him like a punch in the gut, and he was suddenly flooded with guilt for how he’d been…yes, wishing them away. Wonderful May. And his own _daughter_. Who he’d longed for, years before she’d even been born.

Furthermore, he didn’t believe a marriage vow included the proviso “until my ex-lover comes back, in which case we’re breaking it off.”

He walked in the dark to the ranch house and let himself in. It was bright and warm inside, with the aroma of May’s cooking in the air – roast of some kind, and stewed apples, he thought. He heard the tread of footsteps across the wooden floorboards – little eager ones, followed by slower ones – and Taki appeared with May trailing in her wake, both of them with smiles on their faces upon seeing Yuuri.

“Daddy!” Taki shouted, running up to him and grabbing him around his legs. He’d barely had time to take his coat off. She was wearing a fluffy red dress that came down to her calves, and her hair hung in a braid down her back.

“Hi, sweet pea,” he said, running a hand over her head. “What have you been up to this weekend?”

May wiped her hands on her apron. “Sweetheart, you’ve got something to give Daddy, don’t you?”

Taki’s eyes widened as she remembered. “Oh! Be right back.” She dashed out of the room.

Yuuri huffed a little laugh. “What was all that about?”

“We did some crafting this afternoon, and she made you something.” She walked up to him, continuing to smile, and ran a finger down his cheek. “Missed you.”

Yuuri swallowed. “M-missed you, too.”

“How’s it going up there with that couple?” She giggled softly. “They know the front side of a horse from the back yet?”

“There’s been a lot of damage to the cabin, and pretty much everything in it’s been ruined,” he replied, looking down. “It’s going to take them a while to get things fixed back up.”

“You going to keep going up there to help?” He nodded. “Well,” she sighed, “no one can fault you for being a kindly Christian soul. But just how long are we talking, do you think?”

Yuuri fidgeted with the bottom of his vest. “It, um…it’s probably going to take several months.”

May’s smile disappeared. “Several _months_? You’re kidding me, aren’t you?”

“It takes a long time to build a cabin – getting logs for the walls; the floor has to be completely redone, and the roof; they need furniture – ”

“I understand that. But there’s only so much you can do for them, isn’t there? You’ve given them a lot of help already. You can’t keep spending every weekend up there, all that time – ”

“I have to,” Yuuri said, hoping the desperation he felt wasn’t showing in his eyes.

“Why?”

“I…they need me.” His heart was hammering. “They’re nice people. And I do have the time to spare – you know what you’re doing here, and you’re great at it.”

“But _months_ , Yuuri? Even if they were blood relatives, they’re asking a heck of a lot of you, and since when were you obliged – ”

“ _Please_ , May.” He took a shuddering breath, and she stared at him uncomprehendingly.

“When do I get to meet this special couple?”

He opened his mouth, unsure of what to say, when he was saved by the reappearance of Taki, holding a straw-colored bundle that she handed up to him. “What’s this?” he asked, examining it. “Did you make it?”

“Mommy helped. It’s a corn husk dolly.”

He fingered the braided arms and hair, made out of the thin, rough material. It wore a little corn husk dress and was cinched at the waist, with toes poking out of the bottom, and had painted black eyes and a smiling red mouth. “It’s beautiful,” he said, knowing May must have spent a lot of time helping her make it. “Just like your mommy,” he added, looking back at her. She was still clearly unhappy with his recent announcement. “Why don’t we put it up here on the mantel shelf, with the other decorations?” There was a pair of candles in silver holders, a wooden clock, and various other ornaments. He stood the doll behind a little blue glass fish.

“Taki, why don’t you be a big girl, get your stool, and dish up Daddy’s dinner for him?” May suggested.

“OK,” she said, running into the kitchen, obviously pleased to be entrusted with such a grown-up task.

“May, I don’t think I can – ”

“You’re not hungry?”

Yuuri sighed. Guile was not something he’d ever felt he possessed in abundance, and he’d been rather proud of the fact. But he needed however much of it he had now, for all their sakes. “Look, I know you don’t like the idea of me going to help with the cabin every weekend. But it feels like such a worthwhile project. It’s good for me, and I’m enjoying it. They’re friendly people, and we get along. And it’s really nice to help other folks – don’t we both always say that’s what more people ought to be doing, especially with how hard things can be out here on the range sometimes?” He paused, taking in her uncertain expression. At least the anger seemed to have disappeared from it. Putting a hand on her shoulder, he said softly, “I promise I’ll make it up to you in the week. Help you with whatever needs doing. Help with Taki. You name it.”

She searched his face, then gave him a little smile and nodded. “OK, Yuuri. If it means that much to you. It’s good that you’ve met some people to be friendly with. I…I’ve often thought you seemed a little lonely. I guess we could look at it as a hobby. And it won’t be forever, anyway. I bet you’ll do a great job, and it won’t even take as long as you think.”

A mixture of relief and nausea coursed through him. “You’re…you’re the best, May,” he said, leaning down and taking her lips in a gentle kiss.

“Go on,” she laughed quietly, “tell me more. Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Mommy, it’s all ready!” Taki called from the kitchen.

May put her hand on the small of Yuuri’s back. “Come on then; we made sure we saved you a bit of everything. I didn’t know when exactly you’d be back, but we can’t let you starve, now, can we?”

“I, um…” Yuuri blinked. His feet felt like cement blocks.

“And when you’re done, and Taki’s in bed, what do you say about spending some time together, just the two of us?” May added enticingly. “I _did_ miss you, you know.” Then her face clouded as she took in Yuuri’s expression. “What is it? Is something the matter?”

He took a step back. “I…I’m not sure I can eat right now,” he said, pulling the back of his hand across his forehead. “I…maybe later.”

“Yuuri – ”

Not waiting for her to finish, he beat a hasty retreat from the room, quickly let himself through the front door without pausing to grab his coat, and ran to the outhouse. It was as dark as tar in here, but he knew his way around by feel. His body shook and tears sprang to his eyes.

Crickets chirped, and the chill evening breeze whispered between the planks of the wall. The sounds were only broken by intermittent dry heaves, as Yuuri’s insides expressed the churning emotions inside of him the only way they knew how.


	62. Chapter 62

_Snow globes. That’s the only way to do this_ , Yuuri thought as he rode Biscuit across a white landscape.

He already felt spikes of anxiety pricking at him, having intended to see Victor Friday evening but being delayed until now, the following morning, by the weather. All right, he hadn’t told Victor yet that he planned on sticking to a predictable routine, but he still rued the fact that there had been no way of telling him he wouldn’t be turning up at the same time as he had the previous week. He’d have to give some thought to that for the future.

The clouds last night had quickly dumped their payload of heavy, sticky flakes and moved on; and this morning the bright sun was sparkling on a thin white blanket that was quickly melting. Biscuit’s hooves made slushy noises as she trotted along. Taki had been up at the crack of dawn, excited about the first substantial snowfall of the month, and Yuuri had agreed to help her make a snowman before breakfast. May had insisted on feeding him before he’d gone, even though he hadn’t been hungry.

_Snow globes._

Life with Victor at the cabin and life with May and Taki at the ranch had to be kept separate. Thinking about Victor all week, when Yuuri could have no contact with him, was an ache that wouldn’t ease, and it made him resent being at the ranch. He’d been losing enthusiasm for everything he did, including things he usually enjoyed, like playing the guitar, or the occasional trick riding practice. He’d be irritable with just about everyone he talked to. And the most difficult thing of all was trying to maintain his physical relationship with May. As much as he hated to do so, it would be necessary in the future to try to make himself forget about Victor while he was at the ranch.

Well, now that it was finally the weekend, it was time to switch over and put his other life out of his mind. They would only have a little over a day together. The thought stuck inside of him like a splinter.

It was getting on toward lunchtime when he found himself on the now-familiar route up the hill to the cabin, and dismounted, leading Biscuit by the reins. A smile of anticipation spread across his face as he thought about being wrapped in the loving warmth of Victor’s welcoming arms again.

There was no sign of anyone around as Yuuri led Biscuit into the stable, and Luchik was not in his stall. Yuuri took his saddlebags and, as he carried them towards the workshop, examined the snow for signs – as usual, more of it had fallen here than in the lower country – and saw hoofprints leading deeper into the foothills, none returning. He let himself into the building, deposited his bags near the door, and cast his eyes around.

It looked like Victor had stoked the fire that morning; Yuuri threw a few more logs on from a nearby pile. The table they’d finished together had seemingly been put to good use, standing near the counter with a stool drawn up to it, an empty tin cup sitting on the top. It still smelled of beeswax when Yuuri moved close and stroked a finger over its surface. There was no obvious sign that Victor had started making new furniture, though he noticed that the store of seasoned wooden planks in the corner had been somewhat depleted. Everything else was as it had been the previous weekend. Minus Victor. Yuuri wondered where he might have gone, and how long he’d be away.

He hung his hat and coat on a peg near the door, got his saddlebags, brought them back to the counter, and unpacked the provisions he’d brought. Out of curiosity, he looked at what was stored in the area underneath the counter, and found that Victor still had stocks of many of the things Yuuri had brought for him the week before, but some of them were running low, and he felt he’d judged well in what to bring this time. He thought the milk, cream, eggs, butter, and beef might be welcome at least, and he’d brought some yeast for breadmaking. After putting things away according to the storage system Victor seemed to have established, Yuuri sat down on a stool and suddenly found himself at a loss.

Victor hadn’t known when Yuuri would be returning. He could possibly be out all day. For that matter, what if he was hurt or in trouble? At what point should that be considered a realistic possibility?

Yuuri suddenly felt very separate from the daily life Victor led up here. He’d also felt like he’d been invading Victor’s space by coming in and behaving as if…well, if not like he lived here himself, then like he had a right to treat the place as if it were his own. Though he didn’t think Victor wouldn’t mind.

He realized that if he didn’t occupy himself with something, his thoughts would start driving him crazy. He couldn’t just sit here. With a sudden idea, he got up, used the pitcher and basin to wash his hands, and went over to the counter.

***

Victor opened the door and stepped in about an hour later, just as Yuuri was washing his hands again. Yuuri looked over and gave him a smile, and the surprise on Victor’s face turned to delight. He was carrying two grouse on a line, and a rifle, which he stood against the wall near the door.

“Yuuri! When did you get here?”

“About an hour and a half ago,” he replied, wiping his hands on a towel. The relief he felt was palpable. Silly, he thought, that he’d been worrying about Victor’s absence. After all, he was here all week and Yuuri hadn’t known what he’d been up to. “I see you’ve been busy,” he added.

“Hm? Oh, this.” Victor put the grouse down on the floor, took his coat off, and hung it on the wall next to Yuuri’s, along with his Stetson.

“Would you like me to help you skin them?”

“Maybe later. It’s good to see you.” He glanced around the room and huffed a little laugh. “You’ve been busy too. More presents?”

“If I’m going to be coming here to see you every weekend, don’t you think it’s fair that I bring something to eat and drink?”

Victor grinned and walked over to the counter, examining what Yuuri had left there, including another bottle of vodka and the bread dough that he’d just finished kneading and had left to rise in a tin bowl.

“I put a few more things under the counter,” Yuuri explained.

“It’s going to feel like my birthday every time you visit,” Victor said, sounding delighted. Then he looked at Yuuri again. “Every weekend, you said?”

Yuuri put the towel back down on the counter, which was long enough that he and Victor were still separated by a considerable distance in the room. He smiled. “Every weekend. The idea is to get here Friday evening, like I did last week, and leave Sunday afternoon. But, um, the snow kind of held things up this time. May…thinks…well, like I said last time. That I’m helping a young couple up here, and that it’s going to take months. She said we could look at it…” His voice was tailing off, his cheeks going pink. This was not something he wanted to have to be discussing with Victor. “…um, as a hobby,” he finished quietly. Desiring to change the subject, he added, “It looked like you could use some more bread, so I started making some while you were out. I hope that’s OK.”

“Yuuri, what a lovely thing to do. Of course it’s OK. And thank you for all these things you brought.” He had a good look at the vodka, then put it down and approached, washing his hands as Yuuri stepped aside. “I’d better just make sure I’m clean, after handling those birds, if I’m going to say a proper hello to you.”

Yuuri leaned against the wooden planks of the wall where the counter ended, watching, the smile of anticipation returning to his face.

“If I’d known you were coming, I wouldn’t have gone out,” Victor said, drying his hands.

“It’s OK,” Yuuri whispered, feeling like a schoolboy staring at his first crush. Was this how it was always going to be when they saw each other after days apart? He felt awkward and effervescent at the same time, and was sure his smile was ridiculously dopey. “I’ll do my best to stick to what I told you from now on, and you’ll know.”

“Good.” Victor’s voice dropped and he looked at Yuuri with hooded eyes, putting the towel down. “That way I can do something to surprise you, like take all my clothes off and wait over there for you in the hay.”

Yuuri’s breath hitched. “You’d be cold, this time of year.”

Victor gave him a wicked grin as he moved close and cupped his cheek. Yuuri leaned into it, savoring the contact. “No I wouldn’t. Thinking of you would keep me hot enough. Come here, _solnyshko_.”   

The soft touch of Victor’s lips was like spring rain after a long winter. Yuuri sighed as they wrapped their arms around each other. “I missed you,” he said, running his fingers through Victor’s hair.

“I missed you too.” He pressed kisses to Yuuri’s forehead, nose, cheek.

Yuuri nuzzled his face and caught his lips in another kiss, which soon grew heated, while hands began to explore and caress. Victor licked into his mouth and stroked his tongue with his own, and Yuuri moaned, reaching around to untie Victor’s bandanna, which fell to the floor.

Victor pulled back slightly, his cheeks rosy, his lips parted, as he did the same with Yuuri’s bandanna. Then he brushed Yuuri’s cheek with the fingers of one hand, while the other trailed down Yuuri’s shirt, and further still, until he was palming the bulge there. Yuuri’s eyes opened wide and he gasped, bucking into Victor’s hand.

“Would it be lewd for me to say that I’ve been dreaming all week of having this buried inside me?” he said huskily, giving a squeeze.

Yuuri leaned back against the wall, moaning again and breathing Victor’s name. Struggling to coordinate his fingers, he began to unbutton Victor’s shirt as fast as he could.

“Would you like to know what else I’ve been dreaming about?” Victor asked, kissing along Yuuri’s jaw. Yuuri made an affirmative sound as he freed the last few buttons. “Do you remember how I said, last time you were here, that I’d like to have you as my boss on a ranch?”

Curiosity was beginning to mix with the heady heat rushing through Yuuri’s veins. He paused, one hand on Victor’s neck and the other on his chest, and nodded.

Victor made a humming noise and kissed his throat. “And you remember what you said your first order would be?”

Yuuri’s mouth curled into a smirk. “I do.”

“Well I’d prefer to run a ranch _with_ you, as partners.” His voice fell to a whisper. “But there’s something so sexy about imagining you being in control like that. When you are, I just…god, Yuuri, it really gets me excited.”

“Yeah?” A thrill shivered through Yuuri. He thought he had an idea of the kind of thing Victor wanted him to do, and it enticed him too, especially since he still often thought of Victor as a mentor, in control himself most of the time. Or was he looking through the eyes of the Yuuri who’d first met him, years back? Maybe, since then, he’d gained enough confidence and experience to be able to turn the tables. Yes, of course he had, and he’d done it on occasion. He even remembered how lucky he’d felt, when they’d been together for a while, to have discovered that secret soft side of Victor, like a prized pearl. And Victor had been removed from a pedestal of impossible heights long before, to be replaced by…deep, abiding respect, Yuuri realized. So how far did Victor want him to go now? How far did he dare…?

The fact that Victor _wanted_ this enough to _ask_ for it – that he trusted Yuuri enough to show him this side of himself and place it in his hands – emboldened him. Yuuri grabbed Victor’s shoulders and yanked him around, his silken bangs flopping, so that they’d exchanged positions and he was the one with his back to the wall. Yuuri barely had time to drink in the look of surprise mixed with desire on Victor’s face before he was crushing him in a kiss, lips and teeth rough, hips grinding. _You’ll tell me if it’s too much, won’t you?_ he thought with a prickle of concern, but Victor’s expression was akin to someone waiting to open a present. _Maybe not quite rough enough._ He definitely wanted to see some awe there too; maybe even a touch of shock.

Pressing his lips together in resolution, Yuuri grabbed Victor’s pants and drawers and pulled them firmly down around his thighs in one swift move, then grabbed his cock and began pumping it, leaning into Victor so that he was pinned against the wall. “Is this what you wanted?” he grated out. He felt Victor’s fingers flutter over his shoulders, and heard a whispered, “Yes.” With a jolt, Yuuri suddenly recognized what they were doing as the reverse of what he used to fantasize about at the Circle C, in the days when he was so painfully unsure of whether or not his own feelings were reciprocated. He felt a surge of power, and smiled.

_I’ll take what I want, then,_ he thought, removing his bottle of olive oil from a vest pocket; then, quickly pulling his own pants and drawers down to his thighs, he slicked himself and Victor, then pushed against him again, gripping his hips. Victor groaned and thrust back against him, and soon they were both panting against each other’s faces as they ground out a sensual rhythm, gradually increasing in its urgency. Yuuri felt himself being lost in the firm, slick slide, loving every minute; but he wanted more, and he thought Victor did too.

Suddenly backing away, he told Victor to take everything off except his shirt, and he did the same. There seemed to be something indefinably sexy about keeping clothing draped over the top of them while they were joined below. When they were ready, he paused to take in the sight of Victor in his white silk shirt with delicate embroidered designs down either side, and nothing else, his pink cock standing to attention, his eyes raking over Yuuri hungrily.

Yuuri grabbed Victor’s lapels and pulled him into a blistering kiss, then poured more oil into his hand and told Victor to lift a foot and brace it high against the wall. He readily did so, and Yuuri kissed him again, shoving his tongue into his mouth, while slipping a finger inside of him, savoring the whimpering noises Victor made against his lips. Two fingers. He knew he’d found Victor’s pleasure center when he gasped and bucked his hips.

“You like this, do you?” Yuuri said in a throaty voice, continuing to stroke his fingers in and out while bracing himself with a forearm against the wall.

Victor just groaned and nodded. He seemed unusually passive, his palms flat against the wall behind him, breaths coming quickly, pupils dilated; and Yuuri felt a reckless flush of success. Continuing to move his fingers, he claimed Victor’s mouth again, then with his free hand threaded his fingers through Victor’s hair and suddenly pulled hard enough to tug his head back. A quick stab of fear shot through Yuuri – had he gone too far? Victor let out a gasp, but that was all. Taking his cue, Yuuri kissed and licked at the beautiful expanse of white neck he’d exposed. Victor moaned loudly, his hands raking up the back of Yuuri’s shirt.

“Please, Yuuri, here – take me here,” he breathed.

Yuuri was struck by how open and yielding Victor was just now – almost feminine; and it called to a basal need to fuck and fill that was surprising in its intensity. “Get up here and wrap your legs around me,” he grated, and Victor did so. Yuuri pushed into him with a groan and began a rhythm, soon driving quick and hard into Victor as he supported him from underneath, his fingers digging into his buttocks, the soft hem of Victor’s shirt brushing against his skin. Victor’s head was tilted back against the wall, his eyes closed; he panted and made little cries while his fingers grasped at the fabric of Yuuri’s shirt. Yuuri took courage from this to find words, and speak them aloud, that would propel Victor deeper into pleasure.

Leaning his head forward, he whispered into Victor’s ear, “I forgot how hot and tight you were. You’re incredible, Vitya.” Victor exhaled loudly. Yuuri carried on, “I’ve wanted you so much. I could hardly wait to see you again.” How could talking like this have such an effect on him as well? His cock throbbed as he rammed it home again and again. “I imagined us doing so many sexy things together, I had to make myself come just so it wouldn’t drive me crazy.” He nipped at Victor’s earlobe and laved kisses down his neck.

Victor’s eyes were wide and staring now. “Yuuri…” he gasped. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ …” His legs were clamped so hard around Yuuri’s waist that they were starting to shake.

Yuuri could barely form a coherent thought himself, but he wanted to make this as good as he could. He took Victor’s cock in hand and began to stroke it in a rhythm that matched his hips. As Victor cried out, Yuuri managed to say in a choked voice, his own orgasm imminent, “Come for me, Vitya.”

They came together, looking into each other’s eyes; and in Victor’s it seemed like amazement, pain and bliss were all intermingled. As Yuuri spasmed and filled him, on some deep level beyond words he had a sense of how vulnerable they had both just been to each other, at the same time as climbing some kind of great height in their union, shining like a supernova for this one precious moment. All motivation to take charge bled out of him; and as he felt Victor drop his feet back to the floor, his breaths still coming quick, Yuuri pressed urgent kisses to his face and lips, gasping, “I love you. I love you.”

Victor’s eyes gleamed, though he still had a lost-at-sea look as he came down from the high. “That was…” His mouth broke into a grin, and he cupped Yuuri’s cheek. “…oh Yuuri, that was amazing.” Then he pulled Yuuri in for a long, tender kiss.   

_Did I really just do that? Did I say those things?_ Yuuri smiled against Victor’s lips.

“I could spend all weekend like this,” Victor eventually said between kisses. “But I guess it would be very indulgent of me. At the very least, I think there’s a loaf of bread waiting to be baked.”

Yuuri breathed a laugh. Down-to-earth reality always intruded too quickly after moments like this, it seemed. “Come on, then,” he said. “And I’ll help you with the grouse.”

They cleaned up, dressed and had lunch together while the bread baked, then took the stools outside and worked on cutting and skinning a grouse each. Initially they chatted about what they’d been doing during the week, Yuuri focusing on the ranch and talking fondly of Taki, with little mention of May. He disliked bringing these things up at all here at the cabin, but Victor asked, saying he was curious about other parts of Yuuri’s life; particularly the ranch, often asking him to compare it to the Circle C. And it sounded like Victor had been busy and resourceful during his time alone, too.

After a while they settled into the contented silence that was familiar to them while they worked at tasks together, and Yuuri found his mind wandering to what they’d done that afternoon shortly after Victor had appeared. He hadn’t consciously planned on having frenzied sex almost as soon as they’d greeted each other, but it had happened twice now. He remembered what Chris had told him about why he and Zach didn’t mind working on different ranches, one of the reasons being that when they’d been apart, meeting up again was that much sweeter. Yuuri thought he could understand that point of view now, and maybe even agree with it where sex was concerned; but that was as far as it went. Whatever else he and Victor did this weekend would no doubt seem to be over with before it had barely begun, and they would be apart for another week. And yet this snatch of time was already a lot to ask of May, he knew.

_I imagined us doing so many sexy things together, I had to make myself come just so it wouldn’t drive me crazy…_ Where he’d found the audacity to say such things aloud, when the very idea would have paralyzed him from self-consciousness in the past, he wasn’t sure. Well it was true in a way, though it was part of the reason why he’d resolved to keep his two lives separate in the future, as much as he could. Those thoughts did sometimes make him feel crazy, but not only in the erotic way he’d suggested. He hated being separated from Victor for days, over and over, and sometimes wondered with apprehension how long he’d be able to live this double life; though as he could see no satisfactory way around it, he kept telling himself he had to make it work.

He watched Victor deftly draw his knife through the flesh of his bird, and wondered how he felt about the situation. Probably they ought to discuss it, he thought – or at least not pretend they were both ignoring it. When he and Victor had started their physical relationship, he remembered having been uncomfortable with some of the ways things had shifted between them, and as he’d tried to adjust he’d found the courage to talk to Victor about it. And it had helped. Unfortunately, he’d never been in such a position with May, because there was so much he hadn’t told her that concealment rather than openness felt like his ordinary response to her; it struck him now just how sad that was, and that he was simply carrying on in that vein – someone who had once prided himself on being honest and genuine.

_I’m thinking about her here again. I need to learn not to do that._ His meal wasn’t settling well, even though they hadn’t eaten much.

He’d never been great at discussing things with people, he would admit that, though he’d been pleased with the progress he’d made with Victor – until now. How _could_ he ask Victor how he felt about his visits? He could already make some guesses about his response, and that was enough to make him afraid of saying a word. Would Victor give him an ultimatum – him or May and Taki, one life or the other? Or would he simply make his discontent clear, and the issue hang over them like a cloud? Ideally, he would simply say that he was happy to carry on as they were. But Yuuri knew in his heart that it was unlikely.

As he finished working on preparing his own bird, Yuuri wondered if the conflict inside him was betrayed in his eyes. _This is your special time together,_ he told himself. _Don’t ruin it by making yourself upset. This isn’t getting you anywhere._

As they put the meat in storage outside and returned to the cabin, Yuuri asked Victor what else he’d like to do today and tomorrow. He said he’d made a start on rebuilding the cabin floor and thought it best to focus on that before the winter set in and the weather got bad. So they spent the afternoon measuring, sawing and fitting planks; then after dinner Yuuri helped Victor pickle some of the vegetables he’d gathered from the garden before the snows had come; Victor had made a trip into town during the week and bought jars as well as other accoutrements that still needed replacing from the fire. He’d harvested some pumpkins, and Yuuri offered to bring spices with him next time so they could make a pumpkin pie, which was met with enthusiastic agreement. He still felt like he was floating in a limbo between status as a visitor and as a resident here, though of course it was very much Victor’s space. Yuuri had staked out a small bit of it, anyway, with the duplicate toothbrush he’d brought last time and Victor had said he may as well keep – _Why not? You’ll want to brush your teeth while you’re here, won’t you?_

That night they retired to the pile of hay, and to the light of a lantern made slow love, Yuuri wanting to be as gentle as he was rough earlier, taking time to explore and tease and taste. It wasn’t until Victor turned to lie on his front that Yuuri noticed the blotchy black and purple bruise over his tailbone and gave a cry.

“What happened, Vitya?” he asked, resting his fingers on the unblemished skin near the injury.

“Hm?”

“You’ve hurt yourself. There’s a big bruise here.”

“Oh…I didn’t know. I guess that must still be there from last week. It doesn’t hurt anymore though, not much.”

Yuuri frowned and lay down on his side next to Victor, propped up on an elbow as well as he could manage in the hay. Tilting his head lower to meet Victor’s eyes, he said, “What were you doing to cause it?”

Victor sighed and told him. It clearly pained him to do so; Yuuri knew how much pride he took in his riding, and it wasn’t like him to make those kinds of mistakes. “And you’re doing all that up here by yourself,” he said, his brow creased with worry. “What if you got seriously hurt? How would I know? How would anybody?”

“I didn’t think that would be very likely.”

“It’s always a possibility,” Yuuri said firmly. “Accidents happen. I worry about you up here on your own. I…” He stopped, noticing Victor’s raised eyebrow, and gave him a rueful grin. “Jesus, I sound just like May. I can’t give you hell for something you love and have been doing most of your life. It’s just…promise me you’ll be more careful, OK?”

“OK, coach.” Victor smirked.

Yuuri laughed quietly and caressed the back of Victor’s head. “I didn’t hurt you earlier, did I? You know, when we were…” His cheeks pinked. “I mean, I didn’t know about your back…”

“No,” Victor said, sounding amused. “That part of me wasn’t touching the wall. Besides, my attention was on other things.”

Yuuri’s cock twitched, and he moved closer and kissed Victor’s shoulder. “I remember,” he hummed against his skin. Then he paused and lifted his head, finding Victor’s eyes again. “How often _do_ you practice?”

“Practice?” Victor echoed, taken aback. “Trick riding? Well…not very much anymore. I guess I haven’t had much incentive, since I’m not working on a ranch, and I haven’t been in a rodeo or show in…” He thought for a moment. “It’s October now, so that would make it about half a year.”

“You know what? I think you’re getting rusty.” When Victor started to protest, he interrupted gently, “Yes, you. It can happen, you know. I’m getting rusty too. And I’ve never done shows, but the trick riding’s been handy from time to time. Once I got away from some rustlers who were trying to shoot me by pulling myself under the saddle.”

“Really?” Victor’s eyes were wide. “Trying to shoot you?”

“Yeah. I’ll tell you about it sometime. I guess those Cossacks know what they’re doing.” He ran his fingers over Victor’s back. “You don’t suppose…we might do a little practicing together?”

Victor turned to face him, his eyes sparkling. “That sounds like fun.”

“Tomorrow? Would you feel up to it?”

“Tomorrow. But right now…” Victor said, taking Yuuri in his arms, “…I’m thinking about what to do with this sweet man who worries so much about me. And I’ve got a few ideas.”


	63. Chapter 63

Their breath puffed out in clouds that hung in the brisk morning air as they rode their horses down to the river valley. Much of the snow had melted the day before, but patches clung to the hollows of trees and the lee of boulders they passed. The bright sun was rising in an azure sky.

“This is where I usually go,” Victor said as they approached the river and then dismounted.

Yuuri looked around. “It’s beautiful here.” He chuckled. “Nice, too, when you’re not freezing to death in the snow.”

“I can imagine,” Victor said as he took his coat and vest off and draped them over a nearby log. He flashed a quick grin at Yuuri, but his eyes were solemn.

Yuuri removed his own coat and vest and put them next to Victor’s. They were only wearing their shirts now, but he knew they would soon warm up while they exercised. “So what _have_ you been practicing?” he asked. “Gymnastics, ballet, and so on – what have you kept up with?”

Victor leaned against a nearby pine tree and braced his hands against it while stretching his legs. “Oh, all of it, now and then. I guess I should have a firmer schedule. I used to. Nowadays it’s just what I feel like doing.”

Yuuri pulled his arms behind his head and felt the muscles tighten and then relax. “I’ve hardly done any ballet. Clarissa would be disappointed.” He paused. “I guess I am too,” he added wistfully. “I really used to like it.”

“Why did you stop?”

Yuuri shrugged. “No incentive. Besides…not much call for it at barn dances.” He huffed a laugh.

“We’ll…let’s see…warm up with some exercises, yes? Then do some ballet poses and moves, see what we can remember between us. By then we should be limbered up enough to do some trick riding.”

“Good plan…coach.” Yuuri flashed him a grin and pulled his gloves on.

For a natural setting with no apparatus, Yuuri thought they did well – doing push-ups on dry piles of pine needles, chin-ups hanging from branches, sprints up and down the riverbank. The sun was high enough now to set their cheeks and hair aglow and bring with it some welcome warmth. Yuuri spent a happy hour or so recalling some ballet with Victor, especially what they had incorporated into their rodeo performance in Larkspur, both of them practicing poses and lifting each other, with much laughter. What they hadn’t maintained in suppleness or technique, which Yuuri had to admit they needed to work on – moreso himself than Victor – they made up for in strength, both of their lives demanding it on a regular basis.

“That schedule you mentioned – the one you used to keep to?” Yuuri said as he leaned over, resting his hands on his knees after racing Victor back to where their horses were staked out – and losing; not that it mattered. “We ought to put another one together. You know, get back into this. It’s fun, don’t you think?”

“Yeah…” Victor smiled, catching his own breath. “…yeah, it is. I’d forgotten how much. Especially with you. Though we’re not training for anything.”

“Well, maybe we could be. Maybe we could find a rodeo.”

“Yuuri…” Victor paused. “You know we can’t do anything nearby. We can’t be seen together.”

“So we travel a little.”

Victor looked at him, taking a few deep breaths. “How much is a little?”

Yuuri shrugged. “A few hours? No one local’s likely to travel that far for a rodeo.”

After thinking for another moment, Victor nodded. “OK. Let’s see what we can find.”

“You might not be so quick to agree with me once you see how rusty I am at trick riding,” Yuuri said with a laugh. “I hope you don’t regret it.”

“I doubt that could ever be the case.”

They’d left their saddles on their horses for the trick riding, rather than trying bareback without any preparation, each showing the other what he remembered and what he’d been doing recently. As Yuuri watched Victor swing gracefully around and under his saddle, and strike poses on top of it, his light hair and white shirt gleaming in the sunlight, the years fell away, and he imagined himself back at the Circle C that first day he’d seen Victor ride. He was every inch the figure of beauty still, and Yuuri wondered how he himself had ever approached that level of mastery. Suddenly he was struck with uncertainty as to whether he ever could again. It had taken a lot of time and work besides.

But then they decided to revisit some of the moves from the rodeo they’d done together, first on the ground, and then on Luchik’s saddle as the horse walked at a leisurely pace. Yuuri felt reassured, as he always had, by Victor’s firm hands on his waist. Then, almost before he knew it, Yuuri found himself being lifted up and placed on Victor’s shoulders. He let out a whoop of surprise and laughed as they rode along the riverbank, Victor holding on to his calves. Yuuri didn’t dare try to stand on his shoulders, not without a lot more practice. But his physical memory of these moves had started to return, as had the thrill of daring and accomplishment.

“Handstands?” Victor asked once he’d lifted Yuuri off and they were standing face to face on the saddle. “Can you still do one?”

“Can I, hell,” Yuuri said with a grin, and moved into one, Victor giving him as much room as possible. _On a walking horse, yes. Galloping, not so much, I think._

Victor soon joined him, and they gleefully eyed each other from upside down, Victor with his back facing the direction in which they were moving. _What a crazy pair we are,_ Yuuri thought to himself, a wave of euphoria rushing through him. _I love it._

They stayed in the valley all that morning, and for Yuuri the time flew by. He didn’t know how much practical use all of this would be to them, especially when Victor had a cabin to rebuild, but he felt joy bubbling up inside of him that made it more than worthwhile. They agreed to continue to practice together, and also when they were apart, as far as the coming winter weather would allow, though Yuuri again demanded a promise from Victor that he would be careful and not try anything unusually dangerous while he was here on his own.

And so, when it came time to say the inevitable goodbyes, Yuuri kept the memory of those feelings in his heart; and it eased the pain a little, this time.

***

Yuuri continued to visit Victor on the weekends, as the days grew shorter and colder. Though he ate a Thanksgiving meal with May and Taki, he set some of the food aside to take and share with Victor the following night, and discovered that Victor had shot and roasted a goose as well. Yuuri’s birthday having fallen this year on the same day as the holiday, Victor had a present waiting for him: a pair of leather-soled rabbit-fur slippers he’d made. Yuuri was surprised that Victor had remembered his birthday at all, let along that he’d been putting so much effort into something so special for him, and was deeply touched.

“It’s not the sort of quality you’d find in the store,” Victor said almost apologetically as they sat side by side on the stools next to the fire in the workshop, once they’d finished their meal, “but I’ve made things like this for years, and they do the job. Should be comfortable and keep you warm.”

Yuuri had kicked his boots off and pulled the slippers on; they felt luxurious. “I don’t know where you found the time, on top of everything else you do here. I mean, you had to hunt and skin the rabbits and everything. Victor – ”

“If it helps you to know, I made myself a pair too.” He chuckled. “We’ll match.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Yuuri muttered, stroking his fingers through the fur fringing the top of a slipper.

“You’re worth it, Yuuri,” Victor said softly. “And much more besides. What kind of person would I be if I weren’t helping to take care of the man I love, hm?”

Yuuri felt his heart swell and tears prick at his eyes, and he grabbed Victor for a long, lingering kiss. “I wish I could do as much for you. You’re the most talented – ”

“You always did sell yourself short,” Victor remonstrated. “For one thing, you run your own ranch,” he said with a chuckle. “Anyway, happy birthday, Yuuri, a day late. I wish I could take you into town, but it’s a long ride away, and well, we can’t…”

“I know. And it’s OK.” After another kiss, Yuuri looked at him thoughtfully. “I wonder what we can do for _your_ birthday this year. You know, I like the idea of going out somewhere.” As Victor began to protest, he hastily added, “There are towns far enough from Clearwater where we won’t be likely to come across anyone we know, especially around Christmas. People don’t tend to travel much this time of year unless they’re visiting relatives.” He continued in a silky voice, “Remember how we went to Abilene that year, to get away together for a while? Why don’t we do the same thing for a couple of nights? My treat, for your birthday.”

Victor looked uncertain. “What will you tell them at the ranch, about why you’re going away?”

“That I’m traveling on business. I’ll make up something convincing.” He felt a brief lurch inside at how easily the lies seemed to be coming to him nowadays. They were habitual; a cloak he wrapped around himself to protect his secrets – secrets he’d never wanted to have to keep in the first place.

“Well…that sounds nice, if you’re sure. I can’t honestly remember the last time I was in a town along with someone else.”

There was something indescribably sad about such a statement, Yuuri thought. “Then it’s time we fixed that. And had ourselves a little fun, too.”

Victor smiled. “I’ll look forward to it.”             

***

Close to Christmas, Victor was pleasantly surprised to receive a visitor one day, the first he’d had at the cabin apart from Yuuri. It was a teenaged boy of sixteen or so named Amos who had been sent on behalf of Sven, the owner of the Ball and Chain saloon in town.

Before he had come across Yuuri freezing in the snow, Victor had begun to grow weary of being alone up here in the mountains, and decided it would be nice to see a familiar face if he could manage it. Although it would mean asking them to travel for a week, he would invite Chris and Zach to visit. Maybe, just maybe, Abe Connor would allow it at some point. He didn’t judge it safe to send them the invitation plus information regarding his whereabouts via telegraph or mail, however, so he had gone to the Ball and Chain and asked Sven to put feelers out for anyone who was traveling in that direction and would be willing to take the message for him. Though Victor had checked back on the few occasions he’d been in town since, Sven hadn’t yet come across anyone. And then Yuuri had reappeared…but Victor had hesitated to rescind his request. As glad as he was to have been reunited with his love, he was still alone during the week. And that, frankly, was difficult at times, no matter how busy he was.   

But now Amos was here with news from Sven: a local man was planning to pass through Larkspur on his way to visit his family in northern Colorado over Christmas, and would deliver Victor’s message, for a fee of course. Victor was suddenly filled with the hope of seeing his old friend again, and insisted that Amos come in for coffee and a bite to eat while he filled Victor in on the general goings-on in the town. Afterward, deciding that he was richer in possessions than in cash at the moment, at least without going to the bank, he gave Amos some beaver furs to take in payment to the man, along with his message for Chris, saying there would be more for him to receive on his return. Bartering was common in these parts, and he didn’t expect there would be a problem. In fact, Amos was more willing to take furs than cash for his trouble as well, and Victor resolved to put out more traps in the morning.

How wonderful, if they could actually come. Not for the first time, Victor felt a sudden longing for his old life back at the Circle C.

***

With Christmas came more snow, but it wasn’t enough to impede the progress of a white and a tan horse as they brought their riders into the town of Buffalo Springs, situated on the expanse of a river that was now frozen. Yuuri and Victor left their horses at the livery and made their way down the boardwalk to the hotel, their way lit by intermittent oil lamps hanging from wood-planked establishments they passed.

“Here we are,” Yuuri said, stopping outside of The Prairie Dog Inn. It was modest in size, as befitted the town, with a log-cabin effect on its frontage.

“Cute,” Victor laughed. “What made you choose this place?”

“The hotel, or the town?”

“Both.”

“I wish I could say there was something spectacular to show you here, but I don’t know of anyplace around that fits that description. I really did stay here once on business, and I liked it.” He gave Victor a smile. “I could imagine us enjoying ourselves here. And the town’s nice too, though I know it’s not as big as Abilene.”

It was Christmas Eve, and after checking into their room, they had a good meal in the hotel restaurant and decided to head out to a saloon. It was warm and busy inside; too busy for Yuuri’s liking. He could barely hear Victor’s voice above the noise of the other patrons; the air was heavy with the fug of cigarettes and cigars and a too-hot fire, causing the moisture in the air to condense on the windows and run down them; and Yuuri felt hemmed in at their little table as they finished their beers. A group of musicians began playing Christmas carols in a corner, but Yuuri was struggling to appreciate it, even though they were talented.

“Why don’t we go outside for a while,” Victor suggested, and Yuuri didn’t complain. They soon found themselves breathing the fresh night air across the street from the saloon, in a small park shadowed with trees. “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” lilted from a violin and a French horn inside the building.

“I miss listening to music,” Victor said. “I wanted to dance with you, but there wasn’t any room inside, and well…I guess we’d better be careful about that kind of thing.”

Yuuri gave him a solemn smile. “Yeah. I don’t suppose anyone will see us over here, though.”

“My thoughts exactly. Yuuri Katsuki, may I have this dance?”

“Victor Nikiforov, it would be my pleasure.”

Their gloved hands entwining, they began to move to the music, making up steps as they went along based on the type of song the musicians played, throwing in pieces of ballet and popular dances. Yuuri had a permanent smile on his face as their boots kicked through the snow and they circled their arms around each other’s waists and spun and dipped. They needed to add more of this to their ballet practice, he decided, even if it meant they would have to hum or sing. He had missed it so much.

“Didn’t you tell me you play the guitar?” Victor asked as they glided together in a circle.

“Um, yeah, I do. But it would be a feat to play it and dance at the same time.”

“How come you haven’t brought it when you’ve come to see me?”

Yuuri laughed. “Why should I haul that thing all the way up a mountain? You’d probably get more pleasure out of listening to an old squeaky wheel.”

“Yuuri. I doubt that. Please, bring it. I’d love to hear it.”

“OK,” Yuuri said quietly.

They slowed as the strains of “O Little Town of Bethlehem” carried from the saloon, the French horn playing the lead melody. “That sounds beautiful,” Yuuri whispered, coming to a standstill and looking into Victor’s eyes with a fond grin. “ _You’re_ beautiful. Come here, Vitya.” He cupped Victor’s head with his gloved hand and gently guided him forward and down for a soft, warm kiss that held the promise of more later. Victor sighed into it and circled his arms around Yuuri’s back.

“You know, I think you’ve changed some,” Victor mumbled as their lips parted.

Yuuri eyed him with sudden concern. “Oh?”

“You seem more confident…more sure of yourself than you used to be. Despite your protests that you’re no good at playing the guitar, which I think are highly suspicious.”

Yuuri took a moment to think about this. “Honestly?”

“Honestly. And it’s sexy.” Victor grinned. “Maybe it’s from running a ranch.”

“Or maybe,” Yuuri said, brushing his fingers down Victor’s cheek, “it’s because I found someone who believed in me more than I believed in myself, just when I needed it. And then gave me the support to grow and improve, further than I ever thought was possible.” He was suddenly struck by the depth of what he was saying, and blinked. “You’ve done so much for me. I don’t know if I ever thanked you.”

Victor took Yuuri’s hand in his own and squeezed the warm leather, his eyes shining. “You have, Yuuri. In many ways. More times than I can count.”

Yuuri thought he could do this all night, dancing with Victor and kissing him in the dark, snowy park while the musicians played; but eventually they agreed to brave the crowd inside the saloon for one more drink before retiring to the hotel, where a warm bath and bed awaited. Neither of them got much sleep, and the morning came and passed in a lazy haze of lovemaking and dozing. Though they’d missed breakfast by the time they’d dressed and gotten down to the hotel restaurant, the cook obligingly made Yuuri a stack of pancakes, which he proceeded to drown in butter and maple syrup. Then he and Victor asked him and the waitress to join them at their table for a Christmas and birthday drink, there being few other guests in the restaurant; and more drinks followed, and they ended up singing merry songs befitting the holiday.

Yuuri knew that however pleasant their stay was, it would not measure up to his memories of Abilene, and it was foolish to expect it to. That had been a wild romantic whim on Victor’s part, to ease their frustrations; and they had still been discovering each other’s bodies. Now there was no lack of privacy to flee from; and while Victor’s surroundings would be considered spartan by many, he had a comfortable place to sleep, and a bathtub, and everything he needed to hand – his possessions and his time all his own. Yuuri reckoned the novelty now was that they were able to go out in public together without fear of being seen and word getting back to May. Visiting a saloon with Victor, or having a meal out, ought to have been the simplest thing to do, and yet it had become a rare luxury. 

It was one he made sure they took full advantage of during their stay. They also spent plenty of time in their room, feeding each other chocolates and declaring their love with their words and their bodies. Though Yuuri thought he detected a faint undercurrent that always seemed to be present, and he was reminded again of the feel of wearing a shirt made out of some material that abraded you just enough to be irritating without calling attention to itself. A subtle melancholy tone almost imperceptibly coloring things Victor did and said, like the blue haze that fell across distant mountains. And Yuuri was too afraid of its source to ask – if Victor was even aware of it himself.

_Please let this work,_ he thought. _It’s all I can do. Let it be enough._


	64. Chapter 64

As the weeks passed by, and the winter snows came and went, but mostly lingered, Yuuri found his life settling into a predictable pattern. As he’d promised May, he worked hard on the ranch all week, and spent time with Taki, to try to ease the burden when he was away on weekends. But he also made sure he fit time in to practice trick riding, ballet and gymnastics, which often meant spending evenings in the cold stable by the light of a lantern; and he could almost believe he was back at the Circle C, with Victor and Chris and the other men just down the path in the bunkhouse. May couldn’t understand why he’d suddenly become so dedicated to that particular hobby again, but she said she wouldn’t complain as long as he stood by his word not to involve Taki.

Practicing with Victor in the river valley became something Yuuri looked forward to almost as much as their reunion sex. The familiar fire would leap up in Victor’s eyes as he did twists and turns on Luchik’s back, the horse a white streak racing alongside the flowing waters. They were also performing together both with and without the saddle, and Yuuri was regaining his confidence as his body limbered up and his balance was once again on the way to becoming knife-edge precise. Both of them constructed balance beams, and Yuuri made himself a pair of rings and a second pair for Victor. When he saw that Victor was making a vaulting horse, he reluctantly conceded that he would benefit from doing the same, though he would never shake the feeling of it somehow being an old nemesis.

And finally he built the first proper barre he’d ever had, though he told no one at the ranch what it was or what he used it for, and made sure he was alone when he practiced with it. When he did, sometimes he would imagine Clarissa standing next to him, smoking a cigarette or sipping a drink, or posing next to him; and he wondered what she was doing now, and if the money he’d sent her had helped. And sometimes he imagined Victor behind him – the Victor of nine years ago, who watched with desire smoldering in his eyes as Yuuri danced sinuously in front of him, delighting in his power to seduce. Though he reckoned he might just be able to entrance Victor with a similar performance now, if he built his skill level back up. Then, with a sinking heart, he accepted how unlikely that was, given that he’d been seeing Clarissa twice a week for lessons at the time and pouring his heart into what he was doing. Maybe, he thought, some things were destined to burn fast and bright and then wink out of existence, like fireworks on the Fourth of July, and you’d be left with nothing but an afterglow; a memory of one glorious moment. He once thought the love he shared with Victor had been like that, before beyond all hope they’d found each other again.

His curious half-existence at the workshop continued, though he liked to think of himself as a part-time resident with the concomitant responsibilities. He left spare clothes there as well as his toothbrush and other personal items, and always brought food and drink with him on each visit. He did laundry, washed dishes, and cooked occasionally, though he especially enjoyed it when Victor taught him new things, like how to make borscht and sourdough bread and kvass, a slightly effervescent fermented drink similar to weak beer that Yuuri found he was developing a taste for. They went hunting and fishing together too, and Yuuri swallowed his disgust to help with trapping, knowing that it was essential for survival.

By the time March came around, Victor had a large bed with a comfortable mattress in the workshop, though Yuuri sometimes secretly missed the primal feel of sex in a pile of hay. Well there was always enough of that around if he got desperate enough, he thought with a smirk. He was now helping Victor make a kitchen cabinet, which was slow going and sometimes looked like it might be beyond his abilities, though he persevered, and Yuuri admired his patience. They worked on the cabin when they could, restoring planking to the floor and logs to the sides, though this was often hampered by bad weather or cold bitter enough to chill to the bone. And still they found time to practice trick riding, or at least to exercise indoors if they couldn’t go out. There was no shortage of things to do. It began to feel to Yuuri like Victor was a good friend and helpmeet, as well as a passionate lover; and he enjoyed exploring their relationship in all of its different and evolving facets.

As always, however, he wished they had more time together. On a couple of occasions, Yuuri found to his frustration that he couldn’t go to Victor at all – May was sick, or there was urgent ranch business that could not be put off no matter what. Not wanting to leave Victor wondering for a week, Yuuri rode to town searching for someone trustworthy to take a message, and to his relief discovered from Sven that young Amos had been before and knew his way. So Victor at least received word, but it didn’t make up for the fact that they would be apart for half a month. Yuuri would throw himself into his tasks at the ranch, and his exercises in the stable, and bury the bitterness as best he could.

Other hobbies were of necessity somewhat neglected, as there were only so many hours in the day, but Yuuri made sure he kept a hand in. As promised, he made some new – and much better, he thought – whittled sculptures to eventually go on the windowsills of the cabin. And he enjoyed listening to his own guitar playing now, and was able to do a passable duet with Sergio. He’d also brought the instrument along with him when he visited Victor, and he often asked Yuuri to play in the evening, sometimes a lively tune, sometimes a wistful one. Sometimes he would hum something over and over for Yuuri until he picked the melody out and could play a basic rendition of it, which pleased Victor greatly. Yuuri eventually discovered that they were old Russian songs, or pieces of classical music that Victor had once danced to and still remembered but hadn’t heard in years; and he told Victor that if he could get some sheet music, he could play the melodies for him properly, though tablature would be more helpful than ordinary staff notation; and then he had to explain what that meant. He looked forward to finding out if Victor ended up presenting him with anything.

There were a few days in the middle of one week where Yuuri did make a legitimate trip on ranch business, and he had the good fortune to pass through a town with an army outpost. Remembering what Victor had once told him about men in uniform, he’d stopped there and done some hard bargaining for a second-hand officer’s one, complete with hat, belt and boots, that was in good shape and about his size. He couldn’t help but grin with mischievous anticipation when he tried it on and looked at himself in the mirror, attempting to strike a pose and facial expression that seemed reasonably authentic. _Very dashing,_ he thought, admiring the blue coat with gold piping and buttons. _Victor can have me in control,_ and _in uniform. I wonder what he’ll make of that._

He didn’t have long to wait. It had been an expensive purchase…but oh god, it was one of the best ideas he’d ever had. 

***

One Thursday evening after dinner, before he went to the stable to do his workout, Yuuri sat down in the living room with his guitar and began to play one of his favorite Carcassi studies. Even though he’d never been to Europe, somehow they called to mind beautiful marble statues and fountains and domed buildings. He was getting better at this, he thought, but it would perhaps always present a challenge; he didn’t have long fingers like Victor that could easily reach across the frets. He wondered for a moment whether Victor had ever tried playing an instrument.

Taki came in after she’d finished helping her mother dry the dishes, and sat down on the floor in front of him, listening. “That’s pretty,” she said as Yuuri paused to tune a couple of strings, “but you can’t _sing_ to it. It hasn’t got any words.”

He smiled down at her. “OK then, what should I play that’s got words?”

“She’ll Be Coming ’Round the Mountain.”

“All right. Are you going to sing with me?”

“Of course, Daddy.”

He chuckled and started strumming, and then they sang, Yuuri looking at Taki and continuing to smile all the while. Then he paused again to tune; sometimes it felt like he couldn’t quite get that right.

“Are you going away again tomorrow?” Taki asked while he fiddled with the peg.

“Well yes, I am. It’s Friday.”

“Do you _have_ to?”

He glanced at her. “Yes, I do. I’m helping those people rebuild their cabin. They have to be able to live in it.”

“But it’s taking _ages_. Can’t they finish it by themselves now?”

Yuuri swallowed. “They’re thankful for the help, sweetheart. Besides, don’t you like spending time here with your mommy?”

“Mommy’s _always_ here. I wish you were too.”

“I’m here during the week. We went for a pony ride the other day.”

“That was the other day.” Her eyes suddenly lit up. “I know – you can take me and Mommy with you!”

Yuuri made a choking sound in his throat. “No, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Yes, why not?” May echoed as she emerged from the kitchen, removing her apron and draping it over the door handle. She eyed Yuuri.

He felt sweat break out around his hairline. “I – ”

“Well, all three of us going up there probably isn’t a good idea anyway,” she added. “Seeing as how someone’s got to be here to run the ranch, and Taki’s only little.”

“I’m not little,” Taki mumbled in protest, playing with the hem of her dress.

“But,” May added, patting the top of Taki’s head, “it sure would be nice to meet these two people you’ve been spending so much time with. How come you haven’t invited them down to the ranch? They could’ve spent Thanksgiving or Christmas here.”

“Like I told you, May, it’s why they went to live in the mountains in the first place. They…like being secluded. I guess you could say they’re kind of shy.”

“Well, I have to say I find it hard to understand. They already got themselves in trouble up there when their cabin burned down. They ought to be thanking their lucky stars that someone as kind-hearted as you came along. And what if the woman gets pregnant – how are they going to raise kids on their own with no help? I mean, it sounds like they haven’t got the sense that God gave geese.”

“It’s not like that.”

She took a deep breath and looked at him, as if thinking about and rejecting her words. Finally, in a measured voice, she said, “I’d find it easier to sympathize if I could just meet them once. Seeing as how they’re taking you away from the ranch every weekend, so that even your daughter is missing you, never mind me. But you tell them, Yuuri, that you’ve got a life of your own to be getting along with, and they can…they can carry on themselves soon, like they obviously want to. Tell them that,” she added quietly.

Yuuri began to turn a peg, noticed his fingers were shaking, and splayed his palm over the strings instead. “You said yourself that you were glad I’d made some friends,” he muttered, looking down.

“Not to disappear with every weekend. Don’t…can’t you understand?” He heard a sniffle. When he looked up, two pairs of eyes were upon him. His skin crawled.

“I want to help them finish,” he said into the silence of the room. “I’m sure it won’t be much longer.”

The eyes sliced across the layers of deception he’d wrapped around himself, and soon his center would be flayed open, naked and vulnerable and theirs to judge and condemn. He shut his own eyes, willing his heart to stop racing.

“Let’s get back to that song,” he said to Taki.

May stood for a moment, listening quietly, then left the room.  

***

He was standing in the toy shop, admiring the shelves with baubles glittering in the sun. Crystals, marbles, snow globes. Picking one up and shaking it gently, he watched flurries swirl around himself, May and Taki, standing with their arms around each other on their front porch. Smiling, he put it down and cast his eyes over the rest of the display. There was Cassandra in her ballet costume, doing a twirl for the cowboys in Sweetwater Sam’s. Another contained the grotto with the waterfall, not yet frozen despite the snow that surrounded it. He could almost imagine himself and Victor standing there under the spray. Chris on his paint horse, swinging a lasso. A den of foxes near the river.

Victor with his head in a noose, blue eyes pleading, hands tied behind his back.

Yuuri gasped and backed away.

The sky outside the window blackened and the wind whipped up. Dead brown leaves whirled in eddies. Yuuri heard screams, outside or inside the building, he couldn’t tell. There was a rumbling noise as of a freight train approaching – and suddenly a funnel dropped from the churning clouds outside, ripping into a nearby building, hurling splinters of planks into the air. As the roar intensified, the wedge shape lost definition, until nothing was visible outside the window apart from flying debris amid a dark gray fog. Yuuri dropped to the floor and threw his arms around his head just as an almighty crash surrounded him, as of a million shards exploding and flying and scattering. Armageddon struck in seconds, visiting and leaving its mark and vanishing almost before the fact could be comprehended, an eerie stillness hovering in its wake.

As Yuuri moved, he realized he was shunting small piles of broken glass. He sat up, his hands and face and shirt wet, and brushed more powdery white particles off of himself. The window at the front of the shop had blown inward, large jagged shards still hanging from the frame at the sides and bottom. And every shelf had pitched over, the contents strewn across the floor in a glistening heap. He glanced down at what lay around him and gasped again.

Each of the snow globes he’d been admiring had come crashing down, their formerly smooth perfect curves cracked open like eggshells. Clarissa, Chris, Yuuri and his family, Victor…everyone lay in puddles that dripped and ran from the broken glass. As Yuuri stared, the water slowly began to darken to a red color, until the people looked not so much like toys as casualties on a battlefield. Yuuri’s eyes widened in horror and he leaped up…

…only to find that he was no longer in the toy shop, but outside the rock art cave, with Biscuit beside him, laden with everything he owned. The sun was disappearing in a blaze of orange and pink behind the purple shadow of the mountains. And he was…kneeling, keening on the ground, his heart in pieces like the broken glass that had surrounded him a moment ago. It felt as if his entire body was cracking and shattering. He let out a sob – and then heard gunfire ring through the air, followed by the wild baying of dogs, out of the south and approaching impossibly fast, though as yet unseen. Filled with adrenaline, Yuuri scrambled to his feet and turned to the mountains.

He suddenly had the sense that Victor was out there somewhere, seemingly near and yet unreachable; intangible. He could almost hear his voice on the wind, calling his name. Yuuri stretched his arm out as if to grab him and pull him back; but as the light dimmed in the sky, the voice grew more distant, fading…while the dogs and the gunshots continued their relentless approach.

“Victor!” Yuuri cried, running toward the mountains. “Don’t go! I’m coming! _Please!_ ”

But as the last streaks of color died from the sky and night fell impossibly quickly, Victor’s voice was gone…and the dogs were upon him.

***

_It’s been quiet today._

Victor sipped kvass from his tin mug, looking into the sky at Venus shining like a beacon through the pink sunset, a gentle breeze lifting his bangs. He’d spent the afternoon constructing window frames and sills for the cabin, and cutting more notches in logs. It was better when Yuuri was here to keep him company when he did these kinds of things. Even the birds were silent.

_He’ll be here soon._

He thought back to the end of December, when he’d received Chris’s telegram accepting his invitation to visit. It had been a bittersweet moment, as he said he’d be able to make the journey, but couldn’t get the time away from the ranch until May, and Zach wouldn’t be able to come at all. What had felt like a long wait was finally passing, however, and in a handful of weeks his old friend would be here. Victor had mentioned in his message that he was seeing Yuuri again, but had said nothing about the upcoming visit to Yuuri himself, preferring to save it as a surprise.

He went back inside the workshop after he’d finished his drink and decided to bake some bread for the morning; it would take a while to prove. He wondered what else he could find to contribute to their evening meal. Yuuri had adopted the habit of waiting to eat until he arrived, and then they would put something together from the provisions he’d brought and what Victor had. He pulled out a bowl and mixed some of his sourdough starter with flour, salt and water, then scattered more flour on a chopping board that he’d sanded and varnished, and began to knead. It was so quiet still. He started to sing under his breath just for something to listen to.

“ _Pod rakitoyu zelyonoy_  
_Kazak raneniy lezhal,_  
_Ee, oy, da pod zelyonoy_  
_Kazak raneniy lezhal._  
Under a green willow  
A wounded Cossack lay  
Oh, under a green one  
A wounded Cossack lay…”

The tune was haunting. Well, wasn’t that the case with many songs from his homeland? He continued to sing as he rocked back and forth on his feet, the strength from his back flowing through his arms and hands, shaping the bread. It was oddly comforting.

Tomorrow, when they did their riding together near the river, maybe they could talk about refining their routine for the rodeo they’d decided to compete in, which took place in May in a town several hours’ journey away. They practiced individually but also together on Luchik, and Victor thought Yuuri looked just as beautiful and graceful as he ever did, even if his repertoire was more limited now. He hadn’t seen him do anything with a lasso, and planned to ask him if he remembered how. It wasn’t a worry, though; once you knew how to do these things, the body tended to remember even when the mind forgot. And he and Yuuri would be able to wear their old costumes again with the red shirts and black pants. It had been a risk to rescue his clothes from the burning cabin, but they really had been among his most prized possessions. Yuuri had loved the sparkly cowboy outfit when Victor had shown it to him, but they still wanted to match.

It was wonderful to have things like that to look forward to, though he found himself enjoying everything they did together – and not just the amazing sex, which went without saying. Hunting, fishing, trapping, cooking, furniture-making, repairs to the cabin…They were good together. Yuuri was strong, a conscientious worker, fun to talk to, easy to be around when there wasn’t much to say. The way it had always been at the ranch. Every time Victor looked at him, he felt the warmth of his love for him in his heart; even when he was annoyed or angry, which was very seldom. Perhaps the worst of that was back when Yuuri used to smoke, which Victor had hated, though he was used to putting up with it from other ranch hands anyway.

Finishing his song, he sighed and continued to knead the bread. Well, if he were honest with himself, maybe he was annoyed now – or perhaps _frustrated_ was a better word – that there was only room for him on the sidelines of Yuuri’s life; though he knew it was the best solution to the situation that Yuuri had been able to come up with. When he had said _I’ll visit you as often as I can,_ while he had no doubt meant it to be reassuring, what he’d really meant was _I’ll fit you in around my family._ And Victor had agreed to it – because what else was there to do, if they wanted to be together at all?     

Yuuri continued to avoid mention of May most of the time, though he sounded like a proud father when he told Victor about what his daughter had been doing. _Waterfall,_ he’d said her name was in Japanese. It was indescribably touching and sweet, as the girl was herself – last time Victor had seen her anyway, which was getting on for a year now. He wondered if he’d ever get the chance to see her again. As much as he wished May could simply vanish from their lives – and it was the truth, however bad it made him feel to admit it, because no doubt she was a lovely person – he wished Taki could be part of the life that he and Yuuri led together. He would love to teach her how to ride a proper horse. Sharp as a brass tack, she was; that much had been evident right away. And those big brown eyes, so deep and expressive, just like her father’s.

But Victor’s concerns about the future were more realistic and immediate. He thought back to their days at the Circle C, where the issue that had gradually crept up on them until it was pounding on the front door was what would happen when Yuuri’s apprenticeship came to an end. Well, they had made some good headway with that, at least, before they’d been…interrupted. Now the issue was what would happen when Yuuri no longer had a handy excuse to visit the cabin. Victor thought it likely that May, if she were anything like a normal human being, wouldn’t be happy about her husband disappearing every weekend, and was probably anxious by now for their little arrangement to come to an end. Then what?

The obvious answer was to talk about it…but maybe it wasn’t that obvious after all. Victor had been careful the whole time to try to avoid pressuring Yuuri into anything. But this kind of life was…hard sometimes. Living up here had been an interesting challenge at first that could also be fun and exciting, but it was lonely when Yuuri wasn’t around, and he himself had little income. And if Yuuri’s visits dropped in their frequency once the cabin was done…

_I love you, Yuuri, as much as I ever did, if not more. You mean the world to me. But…I don’t know how long I can carry on with things like this._

Did he have any right to ask Yuuri to leave his family for him? Of course not. It felt like the ultimate selfish act. And it was hard to envisage a positive result coming from it anyway. If Yuuri said yes, would he resent Victor for the rest of his life? And if he said no, well…could he bear it?

He would have to make himself stop thinking about this. Every time he did, he ended up meeting a solid wall, with no way around it. Finishing with the bread dough, he put it back in the bowl with a damp towel over the top, washed his hands, and tossed some more logs on the fire.

He heard the door open and close and turned to see Yuuri standing there, putting his saddlebags and guitar down and hanging up his coat. Usually he would say something endearingly corny to put a smile on Victor’s face, like “Hi, gorgeous, mind if I join you?”, but this evening he simply stood there blinking, with the ghost of a grin turning up the corners of his mouth. There were circles under his eyes.

“Victor…hi,” he said quietly, his grin spreading a little wider as Victor took in the sight of him.

“Yuuri.” Victor strode over and gathered him in his arms, and Yuuri leaned forward, nestling into the crook of his neck, clinging tight.

“It’s good to see you.” Yuuri’s words were muffled.

Victor pulled back slightly and lifted Yuuri’s chin up with his fingertips. Deciding actions were better than words at the moment, he leaned in for a kiss, which Yuuri responded to with slow tenderness.

When Victor started to untie Yuuri’s bandanna, he lifted a hand to still him. “We don’t have to…every time when I come in. Not that I don’t want to…I mean, I look forward to it all week, but…”

Victor smiled gently. “Of course. And it’s good to see you, too.” He paused. “What is it, baby? Is something wrong?” he asked, gazing into his eyes and stroking his cheek.

“No. Um…well, I…” He broke off, looking uncertain.

“You look like you haven’t slept.” When he didn’t say anything, Victor decided that if Yuuri couldn’t discuss whatever it was right now, he wasn’t going to try to pry his shell open. Instead he hugged him again, and this time Yuuri practically melted into his arms, sighing against his shoulder. Victor kissed his hair, breathing in his scent and savoring the warmth and closeness. He’d been needing this as much as Yuuri, he thought.

“Why don’t I get unpacked,” Yuuri said, looking up at him. “We can have something to eat, if you want. And have you got any of that whiskey left, or should I get my flask out – ”

Victor chuckled. “Plenty. I’m not quite that desperate.”

After a meal of steak, green beans and boiled potatoes with butter, over which Victor sprinkled some dried dill, they had a drink while catching up as usual with the week’s events. Then Yuuri suggested they do some exercises there in the workshop, as it was dark outside, and he explained how he’d been working out at similar times back at the ranch. He seemed to want to put his all into it, and the two of them ended up competing against each other, splitting the wins fairly evenly. Victor was panting and sweating by the time they were done.

“If we’re going to keep doing this, we ought to start wearing workout clothes again,” he said, rubbing a towel over his face and then handing it to Yuuri. “Have you got some you can use?”

Yuuri nodded, wiping his own face and tossing the towel back onto the counter. “I’ve still got everything I used to wear, unless it had so many holes in it that it was better use in a rag rug. That pair of jeans you bought me, too – I’m sure I’ve got those somewhere.”

“I’ve got mine too. Though I guess the woolen pants _are_ more comfortable, which is why I tend to wear those. Still…” He stepped forward and dropped his voice. “I’d like to see you in those and nothing else. Preferably after a workout like this…” He ghosted his fingers down Yuuri’s cheek and neck. “…when you’re sleek and sweating.” His hand traveled down Yuuri’s shirt, then gripped his waist, and he leaned forward.

Yuuri’s breath hitched and he lowered his eyelids, placing a palm on Victor’s chest. “I want you too,” he said softly. “But there’s something else first.”

“If it’s more important than pulling you into that bed with me right now, it must be something special,” Victor murmured.

“Be patient a little longer,” Yuuri said with a grin, placing a finger briefly across Victor’s lips. “There’s something I want to play for you.”

“Play for me?” Victor echoed, following as Yuuri picked up his guitar and sat down on a stool. Victor pulled up the other stool across from him.

“I, uh…I wrote it,” Yuuri explained as he tuned the instrument, his cheeks pinking.

“Really?”

“Well, I did my best. It’s…not easy to write your own stuff. As I found out. But I wanted to do this – ”

“I’m sure it’s wonderful,” Victor said with a smile.

“Actually, I don’t think it’s all that great, but like I said – ”

“ _Yuuuu_ ri.” Victor listened to him huff an adorable little laugh. “Stop apologizing before I’ve even heard it and _play_ it for me, you silly boy.”

Yuuri gave him a crooked grin. “OK.” He tuned a little more, then took a breath, the embarrassment and humor fading from his expression into something more somber. “It’s called ‘Victor’s Song.’ ”

Victor let out a quiet gasp and leaned slightly forward in anticipation. Yuuri wrote a song…for him? No one had ever done that before.

Yuuri strummed a couple of chords, then paused and looked at him. “I…tried to think…to express how I feel about you. I hope it’s OK.”

It was clear how vulnerable Yuuri felt about this. Well, it could end up being the worst song in the world – which Victor thought was utterly unlikely – but because it had been written by Yuuri, for him, he’d be charmed all the same. He already was. He gave him what he hoped was an encouraging smile and nod.

Yuuri began to pick out a melody that floated into the air, the notes wrapping around them both, ebbing and swelling. It wasn’t complex or showy, nor was it anything like the typical folk tunes people around here liked to sing and dance to. Somehow it was just purely Yuuri, wistful and deep and moving, like the clear sweet waters of a river. Victor couldn’t decide if the tune made him want to dance, or lie down while it washed over him. But then Yuuri began to sing in his soft, slightly breathy baritone that was prettily on key and subdued – more so than usual, perhaps because of the words. Victor’s mouth dropped open as he listened, and he found himself holding his breath, the fingers of one hand coming to rest against his heart.

“The rosy glow of the morning sun  
Gently kisses your cheek  
In the hours before the day’s begun  
And I’m too moved to speak.  


How could someone like you want someone like me?  
I wonder again and again.  
A teacher and a lover of rare beauty  
And my dearest friend.  


I need you like the air I breathe  
My shelter from the storm  
You’re everything that I believe  
Giving me the strength to go on.  


Hold me in your arms, take me home  
Warm and safe together  
The deepest peace I’ve ever known  
A love that lasts forever.”  


As the last notes trailed off and faded away, Victor sat motionless, a hand clapped over his mouth, eyes wide. Tears pricked at his eyes.

Yuuri put the guitar down and looked at him nervously, the fingers of one hand pulling at the fingers of the other. “I know, I…um. The rhyme and the rhythm don’t really work, and – ”

“Yuuri,” Victor whispered.

“It’s probably not very – ”

Victor’s hand dropped away from his mouth. “Yuuri,” he said louder, “that was…” He made a choking noise. “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.”

Yuuri suddenly seemed to come alive. His eyes sparkled and a smile crossed his face. “Really?”

“You…I can’t believe…I can’t even _say_ how much…” He laughed at how inarticulate he was. “You sweet boy. You beautiful man.”

And with that, he launched himself forward.

Yuuri didn’t stand a chance. Not that he offered any resistance at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victor and Yuuri are both having a hard time of it in this chapter, which is reflected in the song Victor sings to himself. It’s a Russian folk song called “Under Willow” – I can’t find an exact date for it, but both the lyrics and the tune seem to suit the mood. You can listen to a version of it [here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AxAGLXom3uI)
> 
> _Fermented food and drink_  
>  Cowboys commonly carried a sourdough starter with them for making their own bread out on the trail, and would ‘feed’ it so that it was always there to use. Foods with healthy fermented ingredients were more common in the past, and we’d probably do well to incorporate them more into modern diets; they contain beneficial bacteria that the body needs. The following sourdough recipes are from _Nourishing Traditions_ by Sally Fallon.
> 
> Sourdough starter (makes about 3 quarts)
> 
> _Ingredients_  
>  2 cups freshly ground rye flour  
> 2 cups cold filtered water  
> Cheesecloth  
> 6 cups freshly ground rye flour  
> Cold filtered water
> 
> _Instructions_  
>  Best results for sourdough starter are obtained from rye rather than wheat flour, perhaps because rye contains a lower phytate content than wheat. You will need two gallon-sized bowls. Total time to make the starter is one week.
> 
> Grind 2 cups flour and let it sit for a bit to cool. In one large bowl, mix flour with 2 cups of cold water. The mixture should be quite soupy. Cover with a double layer of cheesecloth secured with a rubber band – this will allow yeasts and bacteria to get in but will keep insects out. In warm weather, you may set the bowl outside in the shade if you live in an unpolluted area and no pesticides have been used on your garden. Otherwise, keep it in a warm open area indoors or on a patio.
> 
> The next day and every day for a total of 7 days, transfer the starter to the other clean bowl and add 1 cup freshly ground rye flour plus enough cold water to make a soupy mixture. Cover and let stand. After a few days the starter will begin to bubble and develop a wine-like aroma. It should go through a bubbly, frothy stage and then subside. After 7 days, the starter is ready for breadmaking. Use 2 quarts for a batch of sourdough bread but save 1 quart for your next batch of starter. If not using remaining starter immediately, you may store it in airtight jars in the refrigerator or freezer.
> 
> Do not be tempted to add honey to your starter, as some recipes require. Honey encourages the proliferation of yeasts at the expense of lactic-acid-producing bacteria and may give you an alcoholic fermentation.
> 
> To start a new batch of starter, place the quart of leftover starter in a clean bowl. Add one cup freshly ground rye flour plus water each day, changing bowls, until 3 quarts are obtained.
> 
>  
> 
> Sourdough bread (makes 3 large loaves or 5-6 smaller loaves)
> 
> _Ingredients_  
>  2 quarts sourdough starter  
> 13 cups freshly ground spelt, kamut or hard winter wheat  
> 2 ½ tbsp.. coarse sea salt  
> About 1 ½ cups cold filtered water
> 
> _Instructions_  
>  Traditional sourdough bread, prepared with a starter rather than with yeast, has a delicious flavor but tends to be heavy for modern tastes. Spelt gives the most satisfactory loaf.
> 
> Your starter should be at room temperature and have gone through the bubbling, frothy stage.
> 
> Place starter, salt and 1 cup water in a large bowl and mix with a wooden spoon until the salt crystals have dissolved. Slowly mix in the flour. Towards the end you will find it easier to mix with your hands. You may add the other ½ cup of water if the dough becomes too thick. It should be rather soft and easy to work. Knead by pulling and folding over, right in the bowl, for 10 to 15 minutes; or knead in batches in your food processor.
> 
> Without pressing down the dough, cut or shape loaves into the desired shapes or place into 3 large well-buttered loaf pans or 5-6 smaller loaf pans. Cut a few slits in the top for the dough, cover and let rise from 4 to 12 hours, depending on the temperature. Bake at 350 degrees for about an hour. Allow to cool before slicing.
> 
> The bread will keep for up to a week without refrigeration.
> 
> Kvass  
> Don’t throw stale sourdough bread away – you can make kvass with it. Instead of taking up space with another recipe here, feel free to follow [this](http://domesticdreamboat.com/bread-kvass) link to a good recipe for bread kvass.
> 
> Kvass can also be made with beets and other fruit and veg, with all kinds of different flavorings. It’s very versatile, and is sold in bottles in Russia and Eastern Europe.


	65. Chapter 65

Yuuri smiled to himself as he strung another length of barbed wire between wooden posts. The keen March wind, blowing with little obstruction across the range, tried and failed to lift his Stetson off. His only companions out here were Biscuit and the odd cow placidly grazing or chewing its cud, but Yuuri’s mind was on the previous weekend when he’d played his song for Victor. Writing it had involved a lot of work and frustration, but it had been _worth_ it for the reaction he’d gotten.

_The deepest peace I’ve ever known…the air I breathe…_ He’d never tried to write a poem before, and wondered how he’d grown such a romantic streak, and where he’d found the courage to actually say – sing – those words to Victor. Maybe he was simply tired of the lies that now came to him daily, reflexively, and had wanted a reminder that some honest part of him remained. Because if those words he’d written were anything, they were completely true; and on more than one early morning, with the sun lighting up Victor’s face like a painting, they’d gone through his mind in some combination. So despite the fact that he’d promised himself to keep his two lives separate, he’d felt inspired to set what was in his heart to music, and had spent hours not only writing the words but attempting to come up with a tune. And if anyone deserved a serenade, it was Victor.

Maybe in a way it was an apology too, or even a plea. _I love you, Victor._ He remembered all too well what he’d cried in his nightmare. _Don’t go. I’m coming. Please!_ The fear that always lurked, no matter how hard he tried to push it away, because as time went on he would no longer be able to convincingly claim that he was still helping a young couple fix up their cabin. And he hadn’t a clue what to do about it.

Even if he didn’t have that…deadline, if that was what you could call it, the situation was far from ideal, he thought as he glanced up at the foothills in the distance where he knew Victor’s cabin was. Then he carried on with pulling the wire along with his gloved hands and tying it around the poles; it had been work enough for him and several of the ranch hands just to cut the wood for this and build the fences, but it would bring a lot of benefits, he felt sure. Much of the land on the ranch had already been fenced off in this way, and they hadn’t had any problems with rustlers for a long time now.

_Far from ideal…_ because there was no complete contentment for him in either place. When he was here at the ranch, he longed to be with Victor. When he was with Victor, he felt sick with guilt and fear about what he was doing to his family. He was good at stuffing it all down, maybe forgetting for a while, but it always came springing back up at him. His nightmare had shown him what he hadn’t wanted to admit to himself: that it was impossible to compartmentalize these things the way he’d initially thought he could. But no matter how much pressure he felt to find some way out of it that actually worked for everyone involved, it seemed as impossible as ever.

He straightened up, facing the cutting wind. That was the only sound here – the whip of it through the old yellow grass that had weathered the winter; the roar as it gathered momentum across the mostly treeless plains that stretched to the east. An empty place without mercy. Nothing here would care whether you lived or died.

He suddenly wondered what Phichit was doing. Was he still working at the ranch, or had he decided to help with his family’s business after all? Or maybe something completely different? Yuuri summoned up his bright laughter and twinkling eyes. He hadn’t met anyone like that here; but then again, there weren’t many opportunities to do so. He rarely had any reason to go into town; May went to buy food and goods for the house, and Pat and other ranch hands went to the blacksmith and the tannery and similar places for what was needed on the ranch. And as the boss, Yuuri wasn’t able to socialize with the men who worked for him as an equal; the differences in their status simply precluded it, no matter how much he might have wished for things to be different. Funny how when he lived in a bunkhouse, he had felt frustrated by the lack of privacy; yet now that he was away from it, he missed the camaraderie. And Victor had been there, too. They might not have been in the same bed, but they’d slept side by side and woken up to each other in the mornings. Shared their days – their work, their frustrations, their dreams.

Well, you couldn’t lasso the past and drag it into the present, however much you’d like to, he thought as he strung more wire along, Biscuit walking by his side. But he wondered, if Phichit was still in Larkspur, whether there was any hope of seeing him again. It would be so good to catch up…It was a week’s journey for anyone from there to make, though. And what was Yuuri supposed to say to him about his current situation? “I just thought I’d let you know, if you didn’t already, that Victor’s alive. He’s here, living in the foothills. And I’m cheating on my wife with him, and I need you to cheer me up because I can’t decide what to do. But anyway, how are you?” Besides, if Phichit let slip even one word about Victor there…some people held grudges for a lifetime, and he didn’t want to risk danger to anyone, himself included.

He’d encountered similar difficulties when he considered writing to Arthur. He still had his address, assuming that was where he was still living. But what would he say? They’d united in grief, for a moment in time – a moment Yuuri had always treasured and was certain he always would. But things were different now. It was no good exchanging letters in the mail. He wanted a…neighbor, a friend like Arthur who was _here_. Who could sit and drink with him in a saloon. Or even come out here and help him string this goddamn barbed wire and share a few words.

Of course, the only adults he was close to now, physically and emotionally, were Victor and May. Unfortunately, they were both mixed up in the problem and so would not be able to listen objectively and give him impartial advice.

Tying a length of wire to a post, a barb suddenly pierced his glove and went straight through into his forefinger. With a curse, he pulled his glove off and sucked on the wound, tasting blood. The sharp pain obliterated his patience for a moment, and he wondered what the hell he was doing out here with this thankless task in the middle of nowhere. And if this stuff hurt him, it was going to hurt animals too. Maybe it wasn’t the ideal solution he’d been thinking it was.

With a sigh, he replaced his glove and decided to carry on, more carefully. He didn’t know what else he could use for fencing that would keep cattle in and rustlers out. And he didn’t know what to do about his mess of a life. It was simply something he’d have to shoulder on his own somehow, and that was that.

***

And things went as smoothly as he dared to hope for a while. He and Victor gradually worked on the cabin together, and practiced for the rodeo the following month. May said nothing more about his weekend disappearances, and he did what he could to keep her happy, and took Taki riding, sang with her, and even taught her some dance steps. It was easy to wish that this was the way things would stay. It was an equilibrium…of a kind.

One Friday when Yuuri arrived at the workshop, however, he let himself in to discover that Victor had been fretting about Luchik since the day before. He’d gotten sick, and Victor had stayed near him throughout the night and much of that day. He told Yuuri about it as they cooked a meal together. Yuuri had made some biscuits that were now in the oven, and Victor was adding vegetables to a pot of beef that he’d stewed. They each had a cup of kvass.

“I was afraid it was the end for him, Yuuri,” Victor said in a voice choked with emotion. He was peeling carrots as he spoke. “He’s getting on in years, after all. But he’s doing better now. Maybe he ate something he shouldn’t have when I took him out to pasture yesterday. I ought to go back and take a closer look at what’s growing there. We used to have to be careful about that at the Circle C – remember? Funny how they named the town after a plant that’s poisonous to horses and cattle.” He paused. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

“No…it’s OK,” Yuuri said softly. There were shadows under Victor’s eyes, and Yuuri wondered whether he’d gotten a wink of sleep. He imagined him sitting all night in the stable, keeping a long and silent vigil. “Why don’t you let me do some of these,” he offered, placing his hand over Victor’s, but he shook it off.

“I’m good…thanks just the same. But you could…um – ”

“I’ll stir,” Yuuri said with a smile, picking up the wooden long-handled spoon and mixing the contents of the pot around. He sniffed the steam rising up. “Smells great.”

“Ah. That’ll be my secret ingredient.”

“Secret ingredient? What is it?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be secret.” After another moment of peeling and chopping, he added, “The secret is that there isn’t one.”

Yuuri chuckled. “I’m completely confused.”

“Me too.” Victor fell silent and took a bag of flour out of the cabinet; he spooned some into a small bowl, poured some water over it from a jug, and mixed up a paste.

“How’s the work on the cabin going?” Yuuri asked as Victor poured the flour mixture into the stew while he stirred.

“Thanks to all the wood we chopped last week, I think the walls are high enough now that we can start putting a roof on. That won’t take long, and then…” His voice rose in a bright tone that wasn’t reflected in his face. “…well, I’ll move back in. How have things been with you?”

Yuuri shrugged. “The usual, I guess. Though…well, May expects the cabin to be about finished by now, so she isn’t far wrong. She keeps wondering why I don’t invite the ‘people from the mountains’ home as our guests, and when I’m going to stop disappearing every weekend.” Suddenly his throat felt constricted. These things had been weighing on him more and more, to the point where he’d been having nightmares again – but the last thing he’d intended to do was stir problems up with Victor, who was not in a position to do anything about them. But he’d spoken before he’d thought, and the damage was done.

“Why don’t you, then?” Victor suddenly snapped out.

“Why don’t I what?”

“Why don’t you invite me? Are you ashamed of me? You don’t have to tell her anything about who I am.”

Yuuri had never seen Victor, who was normally so calm, rubbed so raw before – and to make matters worse, he knew it was his fault. But why had he asked that question? He knew the answer well enough, and it pained Yuuri to have to say it aloud. “I told her that I’ve been helping a young couple up here. If she knew I was seeing a single man every weekend…well, she’s not stupid. It’s hard enough lying to her as it is.”

“My heart bleeds.” Victor looked away and slammed the empty flour bowl onto the counter so that the spoon next to it bounced with a clink.

Yuuri wrinkled his brow. “Victor, this isn’t like you. What – ”

“Where’s your wedding ring, Yuuri?”

“What?” he asked, taken aback. “Why?”

“You had it on the first couple of times you came here. You’ve taken it off ever since. Did you think I hadn’t noticed?”

Yuuri’s heart was hammering like he was running away from a mountain lion. Oh god, they were having a fight. “It…doesn’t feel right wearing it here,” he replied hoarsely. He’d gotten into the almost unconscious habit of secreting it inside an old boot in the back of the wardrobe in the house before leaving. Somehow it felt like a betrayal to May and an insult to Victor to wear it while he was here.

“You mean it makes it easier for you to pretend that while you’re here, there’s no wife waiting for you back at home.”

Yuuri had never seen Victor so angry or been on the receiving end of such venomous words from him, though he couldn’t deny the truth behind them. He paused, struggling to think of a reply.

“Do you go back and fuck her after you’ve seen me? Is that what you do?”

“Victor!” Yuuri gasped, tears pricking his eyes, his heart in his throat.

Victor let out a long, shaky sigh and then sank onto a stool, his head in his hands. A sob escaped through them. “I’m sorry, Yuuri,” he said in a miserable voice. “Please…I didn’t mean it. I…I’ve been so upset about Luchik, and…” His words trailed off, and his shoulders shook.

Yuuri pulled up the other stool and sat down next to him slowly. Tentatively he reached out an arm and circled it around Victor’s back. When he made no protest, Yuuri scooted closer and gripped his shoulder. Victor took his hands away from his eyes and looked at him. The sadness welling up in their bright blue depths wrung at Yuuri’s heart. Maybe it was always there, as he’d suspected, and Victor was good at concealing it.

“I’m hurting you,” he said quietly. “All the time. And I…” His voice hitched as he choked back a sob himself. “…I _never_ wanted to hurt you.” He sniffled. “I love you.”

Victor pulled a handkerchief from a vest pocket and dabbed at his eyes, then held it out for Yuuri, who did the same. Then he rested his hands in his lap and stared down at them for a moment, the only sound in the room the crackling of the fire. “Maybe I should never have come here,” he said eventually. “But the thing is…I love you too.”

There was another silence. Then Yuuri said in a small voice, “Victor, I don’t know what to do.”

Victor’s expression gentled. He looked at Yuuri again and whispered, “Just…hold me.”

And Yuuri did.

***

“May, hand me the peppercorns, won’t you?”

“Sure.” She picked up the jar and gave it to her friend. It was Friday afternoon, and she and Rose Henderson were cooking and pickling in the Katsukis’ kitchen. Rose was tall, skinny to the point of being bony, with frizzy brown hair in a loose bun, and bright intelligent green eyes. Like May, she wore a simple cotton dress and comfortable flat-soled shoes.         

“What did you say goes in this again – the pickled beets?” Rose asked.

“Oh, um…vinegar, peppercorns, caraway seeds. Yuuri taught me that one. He said he had a Russian friend who gave him the recipe once.”

“Sounds delicious. What about a little sugar too, so it’s not too tart?”

“Well the beets are naturally sweet, but…maybe just a bit.”

Rose measured some into the bowl full of sliced beets in front of her and looked out of the window above the basin, which was open to let out steam from the large pots boiling on the stove. “You should see him out there with Taki and Sally. Sally loves it when Yuuri gives her tips on how to ride.”

May cast a quick, nervous glance outside, and sighed with relief when she saw that Yuuri was simply standing next to Sally’s walnut-colored pony and gesturing at the reins the little girl was holding, while Taki looked on from her seat on her own white pony, who she’d named Daisy. “For a minute I was afraid he was showing her…oh, never mind.”

Rose laughed. “You mean that trick riding he does? I’ve heard about that. He doesn’t do it with Taki, does he?”

“He promised me he wouldn’t.”

“Well there you go, then.” She bustled around, adding the contents of the bowl to a pot, along with the other ingredients, then pouring in water from a large tin pail and stirring the mixture. “Thanks for inviting me over, by the way. It’s always fun to do this stuff with someone else, and have a gas while we’re at it.”

May fetched some mason jars from a cabinet, then put them in the basin and began to wash them, looking out of the window herself now. Yuuri seemed to have said something that had caused the girls to erupt in giggles. A little grin crept across her face. He was so good with children. It was a shame they couldn’t have had more. But then again, this one was enough sometimes.

“Rose…” she said uncertainly, “…do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

“As long as you keep going with those jars while you do. We’re gonna need a lot of ’em.”

“It’s OK; I’ve got plenty.” She took a breath, her eyes still fixed on the scene in the distance outside. “I was just wondering if…well, how you feel about…”

“What is it, hon?” Rose asked gently, seeming to sense something was troubling her friend. “C’mon, spit it out. I won’t bite.”

“Well, how _close_ you feel you and Jack are.”

“Oh…”

May continued hastily, “Of course he’s your husband. But…would you say he’s a good friend, too? Do you share things with each other?”

Rose eyed her curiously. “You got problems with Yuuri?”

She looked down and paused in her washing. That was Rose for you, always so direct. “I…don’t know. It just feels like he’s so distant sometimes. I told you how he had me promise not to ask him about his past before he came here. He’s always been really firm with that. I don’t know why he won’t tell me. I mean, I told him about my family out east; how hard things were there, and how I left to find a way to start over somewhere else. You’d think he’d confide in me too, you know? What if he broke the law or something, and one day we get a marshal knocking at the door?” Before Rose could answer, she carried on, “I…I don’t know if it’s unreasonable of me to complain, or what. I’d never been with a man before Yuuri. I don’t know what other people do. And it’s not like I feel I _ought_ to complain. He’s a real gentleman – warm, caring, protective.” She huffed. “Hell, I don’t know. It gets so confusing sometimes.”

Rose thought as she stirred the beet mixture on the stove, waiting for it to come to a boil. “Well,” she said eventually, “God knows there’s plenty that separates men and women in these parts. Ranches are men’s work – the physical stuff, anyways. At least Yuuri lets you help run the place with him, which is more than can be said for a lot of women – you said you liked that, didn’t you?”

“Well, yes…”

“Hm.” She nodded sagely. “So he trusts you, at least, and gives you credit for having a brain. That’s something.”

“I guess.”

“And we do plenty that’s considered women’s work – and is damn well more important too, if you ask me. Stuff that’s overlooked until there ain’t a woman around to do it anymore, and then you should see how lost some men get. Cooking, keeping house, raising kids, all them things. I wouldn’t expect a man to understand _that_ – and most don’t want to anyway.”

“Yuuri cooks,” May muttered as she set the last jar and lid on the draining board and picked up a dish towel to dry everything.

“What?” Rose asked, taken aback. Then she smiled and laughed incredulously. “You’re bullshitting me.”

May chuckled. “He does. Well, he can. It’s kind of our secret. Though where he learned how, I don’t know.”

“Well then, hon, it sounds to me like you’ve got a keeper there. _And_ he does stuff with the kids. So as I was saying, women and men, two different worlds a lot of the time. And if a man has some secrets of his own – ? I suspect most of ’em do. Would you honestly want to know if your husband had shot someone? Or seen prostitutes? _My_ thinking is, it’s what you’ve got now, together, that counts.” She nodded to herself again.

May sighed, then carried on talking as she took some baking sheets out of a drawer and placed the jars and lids on them, then stuck them in the oven briefly to sterilize. “That’s just it, though,” she said. “I don’t know _what_ we’ve got together. Maybe it’s selfish of me, but…I want more. If your past helps define you as a person, then a big part of my understanding of my own husband is missing.”

Rose stared at her. “Wow, that’s deep.”

“Well, it’s true,” May said, huffing a small laugh.

Her friend shook her head as if to say, _You’ve got me there, then._ “Why don’t you take those jars out, and we’ll start filling them up with some of this stuff. And if you want my advice? I’d say give Yuuri a hug, serve up his favorite food, tempt him to bed, and be thankful for what ya got. It could be a lot worse, couldn’t it? At least you’re not living in a sod house, and your crops and animals ain’t dying on you. Some folks have _really_ got it hard.”

They spent another half hour filling up more jars, Rose packing half of them to take away with her. Then, fetching her own horse, she went home with Sally. May returned to the kitchen to do some final washing and drying, thinking back on their conversation. She couldn’t help but feel that Rose hadn’t really understood what she’d been trying to say. Or maybe she just hadn’t explained very well. Or…maybe she had, and Rose honestly thought she was asking for too much and ought to learn how to be content.

Yuuri walked into the kitchen with his saddlebags, putting them down on the floor near the pantry and opening them up. “Sally’s a cute little thing,” he commented as he browsed through the contents of the shelves in front of him and pulled various things out to pack. “Seems to be a good friend for Taki.”

“How much stuff are you taking this time?” May asked in a flat voice, watching with her arms folded across her chest as she leaned back against the counter.

“Well, you know I always like to bring something with me. I eat there too, so – ”

“You’ve never brought anything back.”

He glanced at her with a touch of bafflement. “Did you want me to?”

She shrugged as he continued to pack. “It’s the hospitable thing to do. I just thought they might have known that.”

He gave her a longer look this time. “OK…I could bring some pickled vegetables back – ”

“We just made some today. Just now.” She set her lips in a firm line, struggling to hide a choke from her voice.

Yuuri closed the pantry door and did up the buckles of his saddlebags. “Is something wrong?” he asked her.

She shook her head; then a moment later said, “Apart from the usual. You know. I wish you didn’t have to go.”

He looked lost for what to say. Before he could think of a reply, she shot out, “Where’s Taki?”

“Huh? Oh – she’s in the corral on her pony. Pat’s keeping an eye on her for now. She was having fun and wanted to keep riding for a while.”

“That’s nice of him.”

“Yeah.” He slung the strap of his bags across his shoulder and strode over, giving her a quick kiss. “You two take care.”

“Bye.” She watched him leave the room, and moments later heard the front door open and shut, a deep silence settling behind.

May surprised herself by heaving a sob, and a tear trailed down her cheek. “God damn it, Yuuri,” she whispered, abandoning herself to the tears for a few minutes before wiping them away. It didn’t matter what Rose said. She could _not_ be content with how things were.

And there were other things she could not tell her friend. Yuuri had always been prone to…bouts of moodiness, she guessed you could call them. They’d come and go, and he wouldn’t talk about them, preferring to ride somewhere on his horse or drink instead; but after a while he’d be his usual self again. Then, around the time of that trip he’d taken to St. Louis about two and a half years ago – that was when it had been the worst. Just before he’d gone, Karen McDonald had told her about the curious incident at the Hotel Dubois while she’d been working her shift, where Yuuri had asked her to mind Taki for him while he’d had some mysterious conversation with a man who Karen had said was dressed like a cowboy – which could have been anybody. But she said Yuuri had gotten really mad at one point, and then the two of them ended up drinking together. Karen’s boss had started to give her hell about Taki being underfoot, they’d been in the kitchen together so long, but then finally Yuuri had finished and taken Taki home. Something had certainly been bothering him, and May was sure it had something to do with the man he’d met at the hotel, but she didn’t want to pry into his business, and hoped maybe he’d decide himself to open up to her about it. _And pigs might fly_ , she added acidly.

And she couldn’t understand, upon his return from St. Louis, why he’d been so moody and distant for so long. He’d lost interest in everything for a while, and she’d started to really become afraid that this was going to be a permanent state of affairs, until eventually he came out of it again. Why would a simple business trip, from which nothing had come, have had that effect on him? You almost would have thought there was more to it than just trying to scout out prospective business partners. But if there had been, he’d said nothing.

She’d almost dared to think that things had gone back to normal for a while – and then there’d been that fire at the cabin in the foothills last fall. To her consternation, she found herself _almost_ wishing Yuuri hadn’t seen the smoke from it that day. He said the couple had made it OK out of the fire anyway, so the most he’d done was to help them put it out and offer some comfort until he could come back and give them a hand with rebuilding. Which, half a year later, was still, unbelievably, what he was doing. There must be something he was getting out of it, to draw him back every weekend like that. She’d seen him taking his guitar. And she hoped it was just a simple matter of enjoying some companionship that maybe he was missing here at the ranch.

Though that didn’t explain why he was so adamant that they couldn’t invite the couple to come down here and visit for a while. May thought the comforts of a ranch house and some nice home cooking would be enough to entice most anyone. It also didn’t explain the _haunted_ look that Yuuri sometimes had…like something was eating away at him, down to his very core. She did on occasion tell him that he looked worried, and had tried in various gentle ways to persuade him to tell her what the problem was, but none of them ever worked. The most she’d gotten out of him was an insistence that she had enough on her shoulders without him bothering her with anything of his own, or that it was nothing he couldn’t handle. Sometimes it fair drove her crazy, the sheer frustration.

She heard a knock on the front door and wiped her face with her apron, hoping her eyes didn’t look too red, then went and opened it. She immediately recognized Reuben, the son of a farmer who lived nearby, and whose wife Maggie had been ailing for months; May and some of the other local women had taken turns visiting the family and bringing food and doing chores for them. She could tell right away that Reuben was upset, and asked him into the house, but he said he’d only come to deliver a message – that Maggie had taken a turn for the worse that afternoon, and the doctor said he didn’t expect her to live through the night.

May knew that if she wanted to see her friend one last time, she’d have to go now. It was just her luck that Rose and Sally had left; they could have stayed to watch Taki. Maybe Yuuri hadn’t gone yet – if she got to the stable quickly enough…

But when she arrived at the building, Reuben at her heels, Biscuit wasn’t there, and there was no sign of her husband. “Blast,” she muttered.

“Hey, Mrs. Katsuki – somethin’ the matter?” Pat called from the corral. Taki was still riding Daisy in slow circles around the inside of the fence.

She dashed over to him. “Pat. Thanks so much for watching her – ”

“No problem, ma’am.”

“ – but do you think you could carry on for a few hours? The rest of the evening?”

His face fell. “Well…”

She explained about her ailing friend, and how there was no one else to leave Taki with. “We’ll pay you double time for your trouble,” she added.

“Oh, now there’s no call to do that. She’s no trouble at all. And if you’re sayin’ I can take her into the house and share some of your delicious cookin’ with her, well, how can I refuse?”

“I want to keep riding!” Taki shouted, obviously overhearing the conversation.

“Just a little longer, then,” May told her. “And you be good for Pat, you hear me?”

“Of _course_ , Mommy.” She rode her pony over and leaned down so that they could have a goodbye kiss, and then May dashed into the house, packed a few items into a bag, removed her apron and put a jacket on, and went with Reuben in his cart.

One of the ranch hands hurried out to the corral shortly afterwards, informing Pat that a calf had gotten its fur caught in a nearby barbed wire fence and was further injuring itself in its struggles to get free.

“Shit – go fetch the wire cutters. I’ll be right there.” He looked over at Taki. “Hey there, princess – you gonna be good for a few minutes while I go sort this out?”

“Uh-huh,” she said, nodding her head, and he spun and dashed into the stable.

After a short while, Taki brought Daisy to a halt. Then, her eyes alight, she rode over to the gate, which Pat had left hanging ajar, and passed through it, her face turned toward the mountains.


	66. Chapter 66

Yuuri dismounted and led Biscuit over to the stream to drink. He usually stopped here at the halfway point of his journey, just before turning to head into the foothills; a pause to stretch his legs and give Biscuit a chance to rest. The sun was creeping inexorably over to hang above the mountains; it wouldn’t be much longer into the year before he would be arriving at the cabin with some daylight still left. Riding on mountain trails at night could be unpleasant and dangerous. He felt he was already taking a liberty with his visits, though, as far as May was concerned, and he hadn’t dared to suggest that he leave even earlier on Friday afternoons.

He took a swig from his canteen while Biscuit grazed on some grass, glanced around in idle curiosity – and spotted a rider to the southeast, coming toward him. Strange – they looked rather small for the distance they appeared to be at. He pulled his field glasses out of his saddlebags to get a closer look.

“Oh my god,” he mumbled, his mouth dropping open. “What the _hell._ ”

In a sudden frenzy, he shoved his glasses back in his saddlebags, vaulted onto Biscuit, and led her into the fastest gallop she could muster. As he neared, he saw that it indeed appeared to be Taki on Daisy, unaccompanied for miles as far as he could see.

“Daddy!” she cried happily as he drew up to her and dismounted. He dashed over and seized the pony’s reins and looked up at his daughter.

“Is something wrong at the ranch?” he asked anxiously. “What’re you doing out here all by yourself?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I just followed you.”

He stared. “What do you mean, followed me? Where’s your mom?”

“Her friend’s real sick, so she went to visit. Pat was with me, but he had to go help a calf that was caught in the fence.”

Yuuri paused to process all of this. “What, you were left on your own?”

Taki played with the frilly hem of her blue dress. “Well…I was _supposed_ to stay in the corral. But it’s not _my_ fault the gate was open. Daisy just…sort of…went through it.”

“She did,” Yuuri echoed, his eyes narrowing.

“Yeah…kind of.”

“Or maybe you _kind of_ steered her through it?”

“Well…” She suddenly brightened. “I wanted to find you! You always go away when it’s Friday, and it’s boring at home.”

“Did you tell _anyone_ where you were going?”

“There wasn’t anyone to tell.”

Yuuri sighed. Pat must be running around like a headless chicken trying to find her. “Taki…how did you even know I was here?”

“I followed you,” she said proudly.

“But…how?”

“I went in the direction you go. Daisy couldn’t catch up, but I could still see you.”

Yuuri’s brow furrowed. “You followed me…for two hours straight?”

“Uh-huh.”

He worked his mouth, trying very hard to avoid a smile. Well, that was quite an accomplishment for a five-and-a-half-year-old. But it was no laughing matter. “Do you realize how dangerous that was?” he said sternly. “What if you’d lost sight of me when I got into the foothills? Did you even think about what could’ve happened if you’d gotten lost out here? This place is dangerous even for grown-ups.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said in a small voice. Then she added, “My legs are cold.”

They were bare under her dress, to the socks around her ankles. “Well that’s no surprise,” he said, rummaging in his saddlebags for a blanket, which he pulled out and folded over her lap. “I keep telling your mom to get you a pair of riding pants. And you’re not wearing a jacket. In fact…” He glanced around her saddle. “…you didn’t bring anything at all with you, did you?”

She shook her head. “So what are we gonna do?”

“Are you thirsty?”

She considered, then nodded. Yuuri passed her his canteen and she took a drink. “I’ve got to think for a minute,” he said, taking his canteen back when she was done and refilling it in the river before slinging it back on his saddle.

“OK.”

He ran a hand over his chin and paced. It would be a two-hour ride back home – probably longer, because the pony would not be able to sustain the same gait as his horse, after having already ridden all the way out here. He wouldn’t have time to get back out to the cabin tonight. And tomorrow…who knew? If May had gone to visit this sick friend, there was no telling how long she was planning to be absent, and no way to find out from here what she’d told Pat to do. He might not get to see Victor at all until next weekend. It wouldn’t be the first time that had happened, but it was a bitter disappointment when it did.

Could he…take her with him? Was that even an option?

No, that was absurd. Impossible. Or…was it? But what on earth would Victor think? And then there was the problem of getting word back to the ranch to let them know that Taki was safe with her father. How could he do that?

_Come on, think. Every problem has a solution._

_No it doesn’t. There’s a very large problem you have that’s eluded a solution for months._

Still...

“Daddy?” Taki shifted in her saddle.

“It’s OK, sweetheart. You’ve just given me a big surprise, and I have to figure out what to do.” He paused again. There was a family of homesteaders that lived close to here, he recalled. He certainly didn’t know them well enough to leave his daughter with them or ask them to take her back to the ranch. But…maybe one of them would be willing to take a message. It was worth a try. “I need to see if some people who live a little further north of here are home,” he said.

“OK.”

He found the homestead with little difficulty, and thankfully discovered that their teenaged son was willing to take a message for him, once he told them what he’d be willing to pay. He took a notepad out of his saddlebags and addressed it to Pat and May both, explaining what had happened, then folded it up, stuck it in an envelope, and paid the youngster, who put some biscuits from the kitchen in a bag and headed out straight away to where he’d tethered his horse. He knew the way to the Star and Bar, as he passed nearby whenever he went into town.

Satisfied with that end of things, Yuuri concentrated on getting Taki and her pony safely over the paths to the cabin. Once she found out she was going to be accompanying him on his journey, she was bubbling over with delight. But doubts kept stabbing at him as they went along. What if Victor didn’t appreciate having a guest, especially a child? Would he feel she was impinging on their time together, of which they had so little? Worse still, what if Taki saw or heard something…incriminating that she inadvertently passed on to her mother? Yuuri would have to be very careful about that. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. But, well…he’d committed to it now. And he wanted to see Victor. Yes, he could make this work. He was determined to.

A purple twilight was shining over the pines as they reached the clearing at the top of the hill. Yuuri looked around in confusion. There were no lights on in the workshop – but a golden glow was streaming from windows in the cabin, and it looked like it was completely roofed over now. “He must’ve moved back in,” Yuuri said, dismounting and then reaching over to lift Taki down from her pony.

“I can do it myself,” she said, hopping and landing on her feet. She followed him to the stable. “That’s a pretty horse,” she said, looking at the one already in a stall.

Yuuri smiled fondly. “That’s Luchik. He belongs to…Victor.” There, that decided it. They were going to use his genuine name. There shouldn’t be any harm in that.

“Hi, Luchik,” Taki said. Yuuri lifted her up so that she could stroke his muzzle.

“He’s a good horse. Clever, too. He does trick riding, just like Biscuit.”

“Really? I want to see,” she insisted excitedly.

Yuuri laughed. “Maybe later. Come on, let’s go find out what Victor’s up to.”

They left the animals in the stable and went over to the cabin, Yuuri having replaced his blanket in his saddlebags, which he carried, along with his guitar. He tried the latch on the door and found it opened easily, then pulled the door open slightly and peeked his head around. “Victor?”

There was a warm, dancing glow from the cast-iron stove that stood in front of the brick fireplace on the right-hand side of the room. A pot was steaming on top of it. The cabinet Yuuri had helped Victor make was against the wall opposite the door, and already housed plates and cups, jars, and utensils hanging from pegs. When he turned his gaze to the left, he saw Victor standing at the table, stirring batter in a bowl.

“Yuuri!” he said, his face brightening. “Come in. Look – I’ve moved!”

Yuuri gave him a radiant smile. “I can see. Did you finish the roof all by yourself? I told you it’d be safer to wait ’til I came back.”

Before Victor could reply, Taki shoved past him, eager to see the inside of the cabin. Her eyes found Victor’s, and his found hers, and shock registered on his face.

Yuuri swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “Um, this is my daughter, Taki.” He looked down at her. “Taki, this is Victor.”

“Hi, Vic…Vic…Vicker,” she said, clasping her hands together in front of her.

Victor looked at Yuuri questioningly.

“I – ” But before he could say anything more, Taki interrupted him.

“The Amazing Alexei!”

“What?” Yuuri said, but Victor was suddenly beaming.

“That’s right. And I remember you too, little lady. A very good horsewoman, I recall. I bet you’ve only gotten better since, with your daddy as a teacher.”

Yuuri gave him a crooked smile, surprise and relief filling him in equal measures. He put his bags and guitar down against the wall as they came in, and shut the door behind him. “Was that your…stage name?” he asked, hanging his coat and hat up.

“It was.”

“I like it.”

“Thank you.” Victor looked at Taki, who was watching him. “Would you like to come help me with this?” He pulled a baking tin out of a compartment in the cabinet. Taki scurried over to the table, and Yuuri followed. “Do you help your mom cook at home?”

“Yeah, a lot.”

“Well that’s handy. Can you grease this tin and then pour the batter in? It’s cornbread. If you like it, you can have some when it’s done.”

“I _love_ cornbread,” she said, taking the piece of lard that Victor gave her and getting stuck into the task.

Yuuri looked at them both with what he was sure was a big, stupid grin. He’d never realized that watching Victor work his charms on a child – his _own_ , no less – would fill his heart until it felt like it was brimming over. Had he really been afraid that Victor wouldn’t want her here? But he owed him an explanation, at least.

He took Victor’s hand and tilted his head toward the stove, and they both moved to that side of the room while Taki carried on greasing the tin very carefully. “I’m sorry about this,” Yuuri murmured as they both stood watching her.

“Well it’s certainly a surprise, I’ll admit,” Victor said softly. “But she’s lovely, Yuuri. So what happened?”

Yuuri explained as quickly as he could, Victor’s eyebrows raising further and further as he went on.

“She rode after you for two hours?” He laughed incredulously, then muttered something in Russian.

“Yeah. So…well, here we are.” He paused, then said very quietly, “I know it means we won’t really have any private time…”

“I don’t think that can be helped. It’s OK, Yuuri. I’m glad you both are here. I’ve…often wished I could meet her, properly.”

Yuuri grinned the stupid grin again. “I love you,” he whispered. “And I’ll show you how much later. There’ll be a way.”

Victor raised his eyebrows again, and gave him an intrigued grin.

“Done,” Taki announced. “Vic…Vick – I can’t say it. Vicky, can you help me with the rest?”

_Vicky?_ Yuuri thought, as Victor chuckled and went over to her.

Victor had been cooking borscht, anticipating the addition of the beef Yuuri had brought; and when everything was ready, they ate it along with the cornbread. Afterward, Yuuri played songs on the guitar that Taki knew, and they all sang together. Victor offered to keep her entertained while Yuuri washed the dishes, though this mainly meant sitting on a stool and listening to an almost nonstop stream of verbosity about her friends, her pony, her toys, and so on. Yuuri thought he was displaying the patience of a saint.

“Mommy likes Daddy’s guitar playing,” she said. “But she doesn’t like trick riding. I wish _I_ could do trick riding. It looks fun.”

“She’s right about it being dangerous,” Yuuri called over from the basin. “You’re too young to even be thinking about that yet.”

“I remember I saw you do it,” she said to Victor. “How come you’re not doing shows anymore?”

Victor was silent, appearing to search for an answer. “He’s living up here with…with the lady I told you about,” Yuuri said, hoping this would satisfy her.

“But she’s not here.”

“She’s gone to see a relative,” Yuuri replied. “It’s just Victor here this weekend.”

Taki looked around. “Where do _you_ sleep, Daddy?”

He picked up a towel and started drying the dishes. Victor was watching the exchange with a stoical expression, as if spectating at a game of ping-pong. “What do you mean?”

“You’re here Friday night.” She enumerated using her fingers. “And Saturday night.” She held up a second finger. “Two nights. If Vicky and the lady sleep in the bed, where do _you_ sleep?”

Yuuri stared and swallowed. “Um. I…I sleep on a pile of straw.”

Her face clouded. “But there isn’t one.”

“Ah now, here’s why,” Victor jumped in. “I only just moved back into the cabin this week. ’Til then, we were all in the workshop across the clearing. I haven’t brought any straw in yet, but I will later. And since it’s just the three of us here, I’ll sleep in the straw, and you and your daddy can be in the bed. How does that sound?”

“OK.”

Yuuri sighed in relief, turned his back to them, and muttered darkly while he dried. Victor huffed a low laugh. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re a smart cookie?” he said to the little girl.

“Oh yeah, all the time.”   

Later, they all retired together. Taki had discovered Yuuri’s whittled sculptures on the windowsill next to the bed; and since she hadn’t brought anything from home, she asked if she could cuddle one while she went to sleep. Yuuri tucked her in while Victor made several trips into the workshop to build up a comfortable pile of hay in the corner between the cabinet and the stove, over which he draped a blanket. As Taki didn’t have any clothes apart from the ones she was wearing, she simply removed her shoes and then curled up under the covers. Yuuri stripped to his drawers, put on an undershirt, and got into bed next to her, and Victor did likewise in the hay, and then lowered the lid on the stove so that the fire within burned low overnight; and the room was plunged into darkness. Taki said good night to everyone, and then the only sound in the room was an occasional soft crackle from the stove, and Taki shifting around to get comfortable until she nodded off.

***

Well didn’t that beat all, Victor thought some time later as he lay in the darkness. He never expected to get a little visitor like this one. And Yuuri chose to bring her here with him, instead of turning around and going back to his ranch. Victor was touched. Though if he were honest, he was also wishing he could show Yuuri some physical affection; but they would have to be very careful about that this weekend, if it happened at all. They should probably also have that discussion, long put off by them both, of what to do now that the cabin was finished, more or less. Well, if Yuuri didn’t see any hurry, he didn’t either.

_That’s a lie. You’ve just been waiting for the hammer to fall. For Yuuri to tell you that he’s got to stop seeing you._

_Would he really do that?_

_Am I going to carry on sitting around waiting to see?_

He sighed and shifted in the hay. Sleep was eluding him. He didn’t want to keep revisiting the old worries, especially not while Yuuri was actually here. If nothing else, they had this moment together. And it made a nice change for his daughter to be here too. Victor thought he could discern the sound of her breathing, high-pitched, steadily in and out.

He was beginning to wonder what they could all do together the next day, when he heard the sound of gentle movements in the darkness – someone was shifting in the bed, then padding across the floor. A body depressed itself in the hay next to him, and he felt the warmth of breath over his ear.

“I thought I’d join you for a little while, if that’s OK,” Yuuri said very softly.

A thrill shot through Victor, but he continued to lie still. “Is…is she asleep?” he whispered back as quietly as he could.

“Yeah.”

He felt a hand slide across the thin material over his chest and up his neck, to feather his chin. Soft lips pressed a kiss against his jaw, and he hissed out a breath. His cock twitched. Yuuri sneaking over in the dark like this – it was so sexy…like that windy night at the Circle C…“Are you sure?” he asked.

He felt a nibble at his earlobe that sent a shiver straight through him. “I know what I want. Just imagine we’re back at the ranch.” The light, teasing tone sobered for a moment. “But if you’re uncomfortable, it’s OK, I’ll – ”

“Stay,” he whispered firmly, putting a hand out and finding the back of Yuuri’s head, burying his fingers in his hair. “As long as you don’t think we’ll wake her up.”

Yuuri huffed a laugh. “You can be quiet…can’t you?” he said, his fingers trailing from Victor’s chin, back down his chest, lower, lower…

This nymph was driving him crazy.

Well. Maybe he ought to be reminded who he was dealing with, Victor thought with a smirk. He found Yuuri’s shoulders and gripped them, then with a sudden forceful spring flipped them both over in the hay pile. Yuuri let out a gasp, which Victor leaned down and silenced with a deep, hard kiss. “ _I_ can be quiet,” he purred. “The question is…can you?”

***

The early-morning sun streamed in through the windows. Victor opened the front door and fetched in the ceramic bowl he’d left covered overnight on the porch. The cabin hadn’t had a porch before the fire, and he was rather proud of this one he’d built; it was shelter from the sun and the elements, and you could store things on it too, provided they weren’t likely to attract the attention of wild animals. This was a thin batter he’d left to rise very slowly in the cool air, so that it would be ready for breakfast.

He brought it inside and stole a glance at the peacefully sleeping figures in the bed as he went over to the counter. What a sweet pair they were, each one curled up under the warm golden glow from the window. Victor’s heart filled with…something he couldn’t quite name. It just felt perfect somehow, that scene. He could see this little girl in his life; a life he shared with Yuuri. He’d teach her how to ride and cook and build things and take care of horses. She’d continually surprise him with her sharp observations and antics that were…well, admittedly worrying, if they included riding off by herself for hours without telling anyone where she’d gone. Gutsy little gal. Maybe, just maybe…he could come to love her like his own one day.

_Victor, you incurable romantic._ There was no point in thinking such things, he told himself as he stirred the batter, took out a frying pan, and then got the butter out of the cabinet. The child’s mother would most definitely have something to say about that. It was never going to happen, not in this life. He stoked the fire in the stove and added some more logs.

“Morning,” came a gentle voice, and he turned to see Yuuri sitting up in bed, looking at him with a smile that could melt the butter in the pan. Victor warmed as well, from top to toe, as he recalled their time together in the night.

“What’ve you got there?” Yuuri asked, as Victor realized he’d been staring stupidly, holding the frying pan.

“This…” he said, wiggling an eyebrow, “…is a frying pan, Yuuri. You ought to spend more time in the kitchen if you don’t know _that_.”

Yuuri laughed. “Don’t bullshit me. What are you cooking?”

“Well, I wasn’t sure what people would want to eat for breakfast, so…”

“Morning, Daddy. Morning, Vicky,” Taki said, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. “What’re you cooking?” she asked, watching Victor put the pan on the stove and grab some jars from the cabinet.

“I was going to cook some blinis, if you think you’d like to try them. Do you want to help?”

“What’re those?” she asked, scrambling over the top of Yuuri to get out of bed and join Victor by the stove, smoothing down her rumpled dress. Yuuri let out a small annoyed noise and then smiled and shook his head, getting up himself and putting on his pants, shirt and vest.

“They’re a kind of pancake. Do you like pancakes?”

“Do fish swim and birds fly?” When Victor’s eyes lit up and he chuckled, she said, “Mommy says that. Have you got maple syrup?”

“I do, and other things besides. Here, why don’t you take the spatula, and you can try flipping them when the time comes.”

When they ate, Victor felt he’d had enough to last him until dinner time. He’d fried up some eggs and bacon, and for the blinis he put out a variety of toppings: maple syrup, stewed apples, strawberry jam, sour cream, and flaked smoked trout, the latter two he preferred himself with a sprinkling of dill. He was coming to enjoy the fruits of his labors in the kitchen and wondered how he’d put up with substandard fare from cook shacks for so much of his life.

They washed everything down with kvass, which Victor was surprised to find Taki liked, and then attended to personal morning grooming. Yuuri bemoaned the fact that Taki didn’t have a change of clothing, but he at least had a comb, which he ran gently and thoroughly through her hair. He began to braid it for her, but she insisted that she could do it herself, though it took her a long time, with many exclamations of frustration. He let her share his toothbrush.

“So,” he said as he sat on the bed next to her, while Victor leaned with his back against the countertop, “I wonder what Victor thinks we ought to do today. Maybe he needs help with something.”

“Trick riding,” Taki said quickly, with a little bounce.

Victor chuckled. “I don’t need help with that – your daddy doesn’t either. But…we could do a show for you, if you like,” he suggested with a grin.

Her answer was emphatic.

***

“Now wait – you were the one who was a couple of seconds in front of me,” Yuuri said. “I saw it.”

They were all at the river valley, with Taki sitting on a wide flat rock, her pony at her side. With the rodeo coming up the following month, Yuuri had decided he wanted to include somersaulting onto each other’s horses in their routine again. Victor was all for it; but they hadn’t practiced it much yet, and well…vaulting had never been Yuuri’s strong point, which was the main skill the move was based on. Taki had patiently watched while the two of them had ridden back and forth alongside each other with the utmost concentration, trying to get their timing right. So far they hadn’t succeeded to the point where they felt comfortable enough to try to spring onto the other horse. Maybe Yuuri was asking a little too much of himself…of them both. As much as Victor hated to admit it, they weren’t getting any younger.

“That’s because you slowed down,” he said. It was a statement rather than an accusation.

“I didn’t…” Yuuri wrinkled his brow. “Did I? Are you sure?” Victor started to answer, and he added, “Of course you’re sure. Sorry…OK. I know we can do this. Let’s try again.”           

“Maybe we should slow the horses down some more, until we get the motions right.”

“Yeah, OK.” They guided their horses into a trot back along the river a way. Then as they came forward again, Victor and Yuuri moved to a standing position on their horses’ bare backs, facing each other, deep in concentration, arms loose at their sides, knees slightly bent.

“Get across from me. Exactly,” Victor said, his eyes watching the positioning of Yuuri and Biscuit keenly.

Yuuri clicked a signal to Biscuit, and she sped up – too much. He clicked again, and she slowed down. “Shit – she knows how to do this.”

“All it takes is a gentle touch, remember. Maybe voice signals are too crude for this. Try giving her a tap – you’ve still got her trained to respond to foot signals, don’t you?”

Yuuri nodded. As he nudged her gently with his foot, she quickened her pace slightly. Both horses were perfectly parallel to each other now.

“Ready?” Victor asked.

“Let’s do it.”

“Count with me. On three.”

They counted up, and when they reached three they both launched themselves into the air, somersaulting, and landing on their feet on the other horse. Victor quickly found his balance, waving his arms out. Yuuri gave a drunken-sounding laugh and slipped; Victor saw him disappear over the side of his horse out of the corner of his eye. He clicked Luchik to a halt.

“Daddy!” Taki cried from her rock, jumping up.

“Whoa, Biscuit,” Yuuri called, standing up and dusting himself off as the others joined him. “Don’t everybody get all het up. I’m OK. The ground’s cold, though.” He and Victor had removed their boots and were wearing socks.

“Daddy, I saw you fall.”

He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “You don’t do this stuff without knowing how to fall safely. Believe me, it’s not the first time.” He looked at Victor. “We did it, didn’t we? I guess I was so surprised, I stopped concentrating.”

“I don’t know why you were surprised,” Victor said quietly. “You were beautiful. As always.”

Yuuri held his eyes for a moment and stopped breathing.

“It was like a rodeo,” Taki said with a smile. “More, please. But Daddy, be careful.”

Victor laughed. “The lady knows her own mind.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Yuuri murmured. “OK, why don’t we show her some of the other things we’ve been working on? Practice makes perfect. And Taki, make sure you stay over there on the rock. Don’t get any closer where you might get hurt.”

“You told me that already,” she huffed.

This time, as their horses cantered side by side, they performed individual moves, but in synchrony, one or the other deciding on what to do next, and both of them counting up to three. They did handstands; twirled around; hung down from their saddles and trailed their fingers through the grass. Taki clapped and shouted in delight as she watched. Then Victor asked Yuuri to stand on Luchik with him, and they slowly and carefully took turns swinging each other around as if they were dancing. As Victor signaled his horse to come to a halt, they stood on his back face to face, their hands gripping each other’s waists lightly.

“That was always my favorite part,” Victor whispered.

Yuuri just looked at him with bright, burning eyes. Victor wanted to kiss him like there was no tomorrow, but not in front of their audience. Instead he said, letting go and jumping down, “I haven’t seen you use your lasso.”

Yuuri followed him to the ground. “I never used it in our act.”

“How about it? Could be fun.”

He smiled. “OK, I’ll think about it. I’m pretty rusty with that too, though.”

Taki dashed over to them. “You guys are real good,” she enthused.

“Why thank you,” Victor said with a smile. He looked at Yuuri. “Should we head back? We’ve spent the morning out here.”

“But it’s _your_ turn to watch _me_ ride,” Taki said. “Please, can I?”

Yuuri paused for thought while Victor gave him an amused smirk. “Just down the riverbank a ways, and back. I promise I’ll watch.”

“Vicky too.”

“Me too,” Victor agreed.

“OK. Daddy…can we come back sometime and you can show me more? I like it here. And you’re real smiley.”

Yuuri looked at her in confusion. “Smiley?”

“You know. You’re cheered up. Happy. It’s nice.” And she headed off on her pony along the river. Yuuri frowned as he kept an eye on her.

“I’m cheered up too, when you’re here,” Victor said quietly, slipping an arm around Yuuri’s waist as they continued to watch her ride away. Yuuri leaned into him.

“I don’t see how I can bring her back here again. At least she hasn’t been any trouble.”

“Of course not. It’s been fun.”

They were silent for a moment. Then Yuuri said, “May almost died giving birth to her. She couldn’t have any more children after that.”

Victor wasn’t sure what to say. His immediate feeling was that he wished he could have been there to support Yuuri. But then he and May would have supported each other, and that was something between them from which Victor was necessarily excluded.

“You always wanted children,” he said. _Something I could never have given you,_ he added silently. “I’m glad you got your wish, _solnyshko_. I can see how special she is to you. You’re a wonderful father, Yuuri.”

Yuuri put his own arm around Victor’s waist and kissed his shoulder. “May doesn’t always agree,” he laughed. “You’ve been so good with her. Thank you.”

Victor wanted to say it was his pleasure. But another thought struck him just then; one he did not speak openly: _I can’t be the reason he loses his little girl._         

***

They returned to the cabin for a light lunch. Then Victor suggested they go to the workshop, where he’d been making some better chairs to replace the stools at the table. He put Taki to work with sandpaper on some pieces of wood he’d shaped, while Yuuri helped him measure and saw. At one point, Yuuri asked him outside for a moment, insisting Taki stay where she was and that they’d be right back.

“Victor…” he began as they got outside. It was his apologetic tone, which usually didn’t bode well, Victor thought. “…I’ve been kind of worried ever since we got here about what might be going on at the ranch. I mean, I paid good money for my message to be delivered, and the kid rode off with it right away. But there’s no guarantee it got there, or to the right people. If something went wrong and they’ve been worried all this time…”

“I understand.” And, with a sinking heart, he did. “You want to get going soon, don’t you?”

“Want? No, I wouldn’t put it like that. But I can’t rest easy. I mean, if I were in that situation, and I didn’t know where she’d gone – ”

“It’s OK, sweetheart. You don’t have to explain.”

Yuuri placed a hand on his neck and leaned up to kiss him. “I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

Victor chuckled. “I’ll look forward to it.”

Soon afterward, Yuuri had packed his things on Biscuit, and he and Taki were in the clearing, ready to leave. She was standing a little distance away, feeding her pony pieces of carrot from her hand.

“She’s so much like her dad, you know,” Victor said quietly as he stood next to Yuuri. “Beautiful, charming, and as headstrong as a mule.” They both laughed.

“I don’t want to have to wait ’til Friday to see you again,” Yuuri said just above a whisper. They stood in silence, and then Yuuri put an arm around his shoulders and kissed him gently. “Goodbye, Vitya.”

“ _Lyubov moya._ ” He gave Yuuri a smile and stroked his cheek.

“C’mon, sweet pea, it’s time to go,” Yuuri said, pulling his gaze away and calling over to Taki.

She gave Daisy the last piece of carrot from her hand. “OK. Bye, Vicky!”

Victor smiled and waved. He watched as they disappeared over the crest of the hill. The breeze lifted his bangs. He folded his arms across his chest, listening to the muffled fading plod of hooves over the pine needles carpeting the dirt path. The smile faded. He toed the ground with his boot and let out a shaky sigh. Looked at the workshop. Looked at the stable. Then went into the cabin and poured himself a generous measure of vodka.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blinis (Russian pancakes – makes 20)
> 
> _Ingredients_  
>  25g/1 oz. fresh yeast  
> 1 tsp caster sugar  
> 50ml/1/4 cup warm water  
> 2 egg yolks  
> 250ml/1 cup warm milk  
> ½ tsp. salt  
> 175g/ 1 ½ cups plain white flour  
> 3 egg whites  
> 150ml/2/3 cup butter or oil
> 
> _Topping suggestions_  
>  Slices of smoked salmon  
> Pickled herring, chopped  
> Chopped onion  
> Smetana or crème fraiche  
> Caviar  
> Lemon wedges and dill, to garnish
> 
> _Instructions_  
>  Put the yeast, sugar and warm water in a small bowl and blend until smooth. Leave in a warm place for 20 minutes until frothy.
> 
> Mix together the egg yolks, 200ml/3/4 cup of the warm milk, and the salt in a large bowl. Stir in the yeast mixture and the flour, a little at a time, to form a smooth batter. Leave the batter to rise in a warm place for 4–5 hours, stirring three or four times during that time.
> 
> Stir the remaining 50ml/1/4 cup of milk into the batter. Whisk the egg whites in a dry bowl until they form soft peaks.
> 
> Fold the egg whites into the batter and set aside for 30 minutes.
> 
> Heat the oil in a frying pan and add 25–30ml/1.5–2 tbsp. of batter for each blini. Fry gently over a medium heat until the batter has set and risen. Turn the blinis over and cook the second side. Continue to cook the remaining batter to make 20 blinis. Serve with desired toppings.
> 
> Source: _Recipes from My Russian Grandmother’s Kitchen_ by Elena Makhonko


	67. Chapter 67

Yuuri and Taki were barely within sight of the ranch house before May came running out to them. They dismounted, and Taki shouted, “Mommy!”

May was still holding a dish towel as she drew up, looking daggers at her daughter. “I cannot _believe_ you took off like that, young lady,” she snapped. “What on earth were you thinking?”

“But – ” Taki began to protest.

“And what about Pat, when he couldn’t find you? You just about gave him a heart attack!”

A sob came from Taki’s throat, and tears sprang from her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mommy. I didn’t mean to.”

“You didn’t _mean to_ lead Daisy out of the corral and across the range? Honestly, Taki. I never imagined in my life that you’d do such a damn fool thing.”

“I’m sorry!” Taki wailed.

“I think she gets the point, May,” Yuuri muttered. “Did you get my note?”

“Yeah, I got it. Though why you didn’t just turn around and bring her home – ”

“We were already halfway there. I thought she might as well come.”

“So they’re OK with visitors up there, are they? That couple of yours?”

“They didn’t expect – ” Yuuri began.

“Vicky – he was the only one there,” Taki said, sniffling and looking at her mother. “He’s real nice.”

May raised an eyebrow as Yuuri swallowed, thinking fast. He grabbed Biscuit’s reins and began to lead her toward the stable, gesturing for the others to follow. “Taki was really scared, you know. She took some calming down. I think she’s learned a big lesson.”

“But I wasn’t – ” Taki said as she hurried up to him.

He bent over and whispered quickly in her ear, “Pretend that you were.”

She stared at him for a moment, then looked at May, her eyes wide and still full of tears. “I wished I didn’t do it,” she said in a small voice, sniffling again. “I was all by myself. And I thought I might get eaten by a lion, or a buffalo!”

Yuuri turned away and fought down a smile.

“Buffalos don’t eat people,” May said. “And there aren’t any lions here.”

“I mean _mountain_ lions.” She wailed, “I thought I’d never see you or Daddy again! I thought I might _die_ out there! I can’t believe I did that stupid thing!”

_Jesus, Mary and Joseph,_ Yuuri thought, in awe of her performance.

“Oh Taki,” May sighed. “Come here.” As Taki approached, still sobbing, May wrapped her arms around her and made shushing sounds into her hair. “It sounds like maybe you did learn a lesson. And I’m so glad you’re back safe and sound.”

When she let go of Taki, the little girl gave a wink to her father and took up Daisy’s reins again. Yuuri had a sinking feeling that he’d just encouraged her in a skill that ought rather to have been _dis_ couraged, and that it might well come back to bite him on the butt one day.

They stabled their animals, Yuuri’s heart sinking when he thought about how he could have had another day up at the cabin. Despite that, though, he felt he’d done the right thing, because it was impossible to know whether or not his message had been received here at the ranch. But he was missing Victor already.

“Well, it looks like we’re going to have Daddy home for Saturday dinner,” May said to Taki with a grin. “That’s something special, isn’t it? Do you reckon we have enough apple pie left over for the three of us?”

“Apple pie? That’s my favorite!”

“Why don’t you run along and get it out of the pantry for us, and we’ll be there in a minute.”

“OK.” Taki dashed off, leaving Yuuri and May walking side by side behind her.

Before she could start asking questions, Yuuri jumped in. “Taki said you were visiting a sick friend. Was it Maggie?”

She nodded. Yuuri waited for a further response, and when there wasn’t one, he said, “I guess it didn’t turn out too good.”

She let out a long sigh. “She died last night, Yuuri. With her family around her. I didn’t go into the room with them, but…” She sniffed and wiped at her eye.

Yuuri stopped and gathered her into his arms. “You were a good friend to her. I’m sure that meant a lot.”

She rested her head on his shoulder. “I guess. I mean, this…wasn’t a surprise for anyone, but it’s never easy.”

“No.”

She pulled away with a little smile, and they started walking again. “Her son brought me back late last night. And then I heard all about what happened with Taki. I gathered that Pat was called away suddenly, and he accidentally left the gate to the corral open. I had words with him about that, but well…I think the panic he seems to have gone through trying to find her, before your message arrived, was probably all the reprimand he needed. He couldn’t apologize enough.”

“I can imagine. But she should’ve known better than to go off like that, too.”

“Oh, Yuuri…I really worry about her sometimes. She’s so bright, but her common sense is going to take a while to catch up with it.” She huffed a small laugh. “You know what she said to me the other day, when she made a joke? ‘Why aren’t you laughing, Mommy?’ she said. I said, ‘I have a lot on my mind.’ And she said, ‘If you lose some of your mind, maybe then you can laugh.’ ”

Yuuri guffawed. “Oh, that’s a good one.”

They were about halfway to the house; Taki had already let herself in through the door. May added, “While I was away last night, I was talking to Peg, one of the ladies who’d come. Would you believe she’d gone with her family to Yellowstone Park last year?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I know I was asking you about a trip for all of us to Chicago, but that’d be even better, don’t you think? And not as far away, either.”

He stopped and looked at her. “You seriously want to go?”

“Why not? Peg said it’s like nothing on earth she’s ever seen. And…when was the last time we all had a vacation together?” She lowered her voice and spoke in earnest. “I…I could really do with something like that. The three of us, having some fun. Wouldn’t it be nice?”

“I, um…”

“There’s just one problem.”

“There is?”

“We’d have to travel there by stagecoach.”

Yuuri let out a quick humorless laugh. “Shit. I hate those goddamn things.” He coughed. “Uh, sorry about the language,” he mumbled.

May tittered. “It’s nothing I don’t hear just about every day around the ranch.”

“Who’s been cussing in front of you, then?”

She batted his chest playfully. “Come on. Dinner’ll be overdone if we don’t scoot.”

Yuuri couldn’t help but feel that a stagecoach had ironically saved his bacon this time, because May knew he would probably never be able to travel inside one. Yes, he could envision himself at Yellowstone Park. And yes, he’d dreamed for years of going there to experience its wonders.

But the person he saw in his mind’s eye standing next to him, waiting for Old Faithful to erupt into the sky, wasn’t May.

It was Victor.

***

In the following weeks, Yuuri’s visits to Victor were increasingly focused on getting ready for the rodeo, which was being held in a town called Huntsville, half a day’s ride north from the cabin. They exercised together, and performed what ballet they could remember both separately and as dances, sometimes with Victor humming classical music he knew. Gradually they rediscovered the split-second timing they used to have, and Yuuri almost felt like they could have been getting ready for their performance at the Larkspur rodeo all over again. He had added a bit of lassoing this time too, and Victor had quickly learned how to jump over the rope with him as they stood on Luchik’s back. Yuuri couldn’t help but imagine one trick that would involve them each standing on their horses and himself lassoing Victor, then pulling him over on Luchik until he could wrap an arm around him and kiss him soundly. That would be fun…but sadly not something they could perform in front of an audience.

When the weekend of the rodeo came, Yuuri went to the cabin as usual on Friday, and they traveled on the Saturday, reaching Huntsville in time to perform that afternoon, the 24th of May. He’d forgotten how intoxicating it was to show off in front of a crowd of people. Well, maybe _show off_ didn’t quite describe it. It was more like taking pleasure in what he knew he and Victor did well, and sharing it with others who he hoped would be entertained. He also liked to see it as a display of their love, though nothing overt in that respect was involved in the performance. It didn’t have to be. Yuuri could feel it flowing between them, not only there in the arena but also when they practiced at the cabin, as he had in the past on the ranch. It was like bathing together on a summer’s day in a clear mountain stream. Or holding each other under the light of the moon. Like there was something tangible surrounding them, suffusing them, connecting them. The rodeos themselves didn’t matter in the end; they weren’t the point.

The prize money from taking first place was a pleasant bonus; Yuuri insisted that Victor keep it, as he didn’t have a steady income, though he added that he wouldn’t object if they used some of it to have a nice meal in a restaurant while they were in Huntsville. He said he thought the caliber of the competition was lower than it had been in Larkspur, and Victor told him about some of the acts he’d seen while he’d taken part in wild west shows. It sounded like they were the future for the kind of riding they did, rather than rodeos in local towns. Yuuri decided to see if he could find out when the next one would come to Clearwater so that he could go see it; and he was sure Taki would want to be with him.

They stayed in their hotel room in Hunstville as long as they dared on Sunday morning, relishing their time together, before making the journey back. It didn’t feel like the luxury it would have been when they were living in the bunkhouse, as they were both used to having privacy and being able to sleep in a bed together now, at least on occasion; but they could go out into the town wherever they wanted to, without fear of being recognized, which was a rare treat. They were also pleasantly surprised to discover that the general store sold a number of Polish goods, the owner being from that country and supplying the needs of a small enclave of settlers from that part of the world within the town. Victor said that Polish food was like Russian food in many ways. He stocked up on salted herring, rye bread, pickled cucumber, milled barley and buckwheat, sour cream, dried dill and caraway seeds, and plum brandy, promising to give Yuuri a feast on his next visit to the cabin.

On the journey back, they parted ways when the main path forked off to the foothills, where Victor was headed, while Yuuri planned to carry on south toward the ranch. He was missing the cabin as if it were home, and wished he could follow Victor there now, especially after they’d had such a wonderful trip. They could relax together in the peace and quiet, have a drink, sit by the fire and hold each other. His heart longed for just that.

Instead, he kissed Victor goodbye and said he was looking forward to the Polish food next weekend. And he guided Biscuit toward the ranch, where May and Taki were waiting.

***

The white stag halted mid-trot through the pines and paused, turning its head to look into the clearing, as if deigning to allow itself to be noted and admired before carrying on its way. Victor stood in the middle of the brown churned earth of his garden, pitchfork in hand, and stared back. He’d never seen a creature like this before.

“My god, you’re beautiful,” he whispered in Russian. “Simply amazing.” Sleek muscles covered with fur so bright it appeared to glow. An antler rack poised on top of its head like a crown. Black eyes as deep as the night sky. Victor suddenly wished he were an artist; he would drink in this vision in as long as it was allowed, then rush to his easel and paint what he’d seen. He’d thought such things only existed in myth and legend.

“So…am I supposed to follow you somewhere?” he said quietly with a smile. “Will you take me to a treasure chest that contains my heart’s desire? Or are you just curious?”

As the animal continued to gaze placidly, Victor chuckled and shook his head. He was hardly a vision himself at the moment, standing in muck. He’d been shoveling Luchik’s manure into a pile on the edge of the clearing for just this purpose, to churn it into the earth in the spring, but it wasn’t a task he particularly enjoyed. Still, it ought to result in some good food later in the year, once he’d gotten things planted.

“Hey, Victor!”

His head jerked toward the sound. Someone was shouting from the other side of the cabin. The stag broke into a run, but a moment later dropped to the ground on its side as the crack of a rifle rent the air.

With a gasp, Victor clutched the pitchfork. It was no weapon to challenge a rifle, but it was all he had. With a glance around at the shelter on offer, he decided it best to make for the trees. As he ran, he wondered who was calling his name and shooting. It certainly wasn’t Yuuri.

“ _There_ you are!”

Victor halted and peered at the figure in cowboy clothes running toward him, a rifle in one hand, white Stetson pulled low over his face. The man stopped several yards away and tilted the brim up, panting and beaming.

Victor continued to peer. “Chris?” he finally ventured.

“Thought for a minute ya didn’t recognize yer ol’ pard.” He planted the butt of the rifle on the ground and held on to the barrel, putting his other hand on his hip.

“Chris!” he repeated excitedly. Then, in a quieter voice, “You shot the stag.”

“I know – can you believe our luck?”

“All of it bad, if you believe the legends.”

Chris wrinkled his brow and came forward to stand in front of him, then looked over at where the animal lay among the pines, streaks of red trailing down its fur. “I ain’t never heard none.”

“They’re mostly from Europe, I think.”

He looked back at Victor. “Ya don’t believe ’em, do yuh?”

“I…no, of course not. It just…seems a shame to kill something so beautiful.”

Chris laughed. “Don’t tell me ya never kill nothin’ up here. How else do ya make a livin’ when ya ain’t workin’ on a ranch?” When Victor didn’t answer, he added, “I figgered when I got to the top of this hill that the cabin I saw must be yours. Then I saw that animal, and thought we could both get some prize meat an’ hide offa that. But…I’m sorry if I offended yuh. I didn’t mean to. Hell, it’s been so long since I seen yuh – ”

Victor dropped his pitchfork and embraced Chris, careful to stay away from the rifle. “Never mind. It _has_ been a long time. Thank you so much for coming. You…you look great.” Chris’s face was more weatherbeaten than he remembered, with deeper lines etched into his forehead and around his eyes, but it seemed to give him a more dignified appearance somehow.

“Victor.” Chris wrapped an arm around him and patted his back. “So do you, as ya always did. I thought I’d never see ya again. Course I’m glad to come out an’ visit. It’s just a shame I had to wait so long, an’ that Zach couldn’t come. But never mind. I’m here, leastways.”

“Yeah.” Victor pulled away and eyed the stag. “Well, I guess you’d better give me a hand with that.”

They lifted the stag and carried it to the front of the cabin, then put it down near the front porch, along with Chris’s rifle. A mahogany-colored horse stood grazing on a little patch of grass nearby.

“I guess he’s yours?” Victor asked.

“Yeah, got him just a year ago or so. Name’s Davy. Domino was gettin’ old; I sold him to a family with a little boy who wanted to learn to ride. What about you – you still got Luchik?”

Victor smiled. “Still going strong. As good at the trick riding as ever.”

“Really? You still doin’ that?”

“Went to a rodeo a few weeks ago. With Yuuri.” He gestured to the stable. “Come on, let’s get Davy inside.”

Chris took the horse’s reins. “Yeah, you said you two was together again. You got me curious for sure. I guess he ain’t here right now?”

“No. Anyway, I want to hear all about things on your side of the territory first. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

While they stabled Davy and then cleaned and gutted the deer, Chris told Victor about life in Larkspur and at the Circle C over the past nine years. He was still with Zach, who still worked at the Rafter T, and they were content. Jeff had gotten together with a man from town who had been working at the blacksmith’s shop, and they’d gone off into the mountains five years ago or so. No one had heard from them since, but that wasn’t unusual for people who left ranches. Little else had changed, though Chris updated Victor on the comings and goings of other ranch hands, and people and shops in town. There had been an attempted bank heist a few years ago that had been foiled by some of the deputies, and that had been the biggest news in a while.

Victor made them bacon, beans, eggs and biscuits for dinner, then showed Chris around the cabin and outbuildings. With the hours of daylight that were left, Chris insisted they get to work on Victor’s vegetable garden, and they soon had the rest of the soil broken up and turned over, ready for planting. Then they retired to the cabin for a chat over beer and whiskey; Victor shared some of his own, but Chris had also come well provided.

“I hope you didn’t have any trouble on your journey,” Victor said as he sipped his beer from his tin mug. Each had drawn up a chair close to the open fire in the stove. The flames lit their faces and flickered across the dark logs in the walls.

“Odd wild animal in the night, that’s about all. I think a raccoon tried to get into my saddlebags, but it just scratched at ’em, couldn’t get to nothin’. Weren’t hard to actually navigate here, thankfully. You gave good directions.”

“I had to wait weeks to find someone to take them to you. I didn’t want to risk sending them in a telegram.”

“Yeah, best thang to do. I can’t honestly say if folks is still keepin’ an eye out for the two of yuhz. If I had to guess, I’d say Yuuri’s dad might be, but who knows. No one talks about it anymore, but that don’t mean nothin’.” He paused. “Would you guys come back if ya could?”

“Um.” Victor sipped his beer, unsure of how to answer.

“Dumb question, I guess, with everything that happened, an’ Yuuri’s folks an’ all. I guess what I was wonderin’ was, do ya miss bein’ on a ranch? I got telegrams an’ messages from you from so many different places over the years, I couldn’t keep track of what ya was up to.”

So Victor filled him in – about going to St. Louis; Yuuri trying to find him there; the clue from the hotel register that led him to search for Yuuri back in Wyoming, and everything he did in the meantime. It was a tale that took some time in the telling, but Chris never appeared to lose interest; in fact the expression on his face said that this was the most gripping story he’d heard for a long while.

“Jesus,” he exclaimed. “You been doin’ all that, while I’ve had my butt in a saddle for nine years herdin’ cattle. That’s really somethin’.”

Victor shrugged with a small smile, and poured himself some whiskey. “Maybe it’s not all it’s cracked up to be, Chris. You know how it is when people come and go. You don’t get the chance to know someone before they’ve disappeared. Only, this time it was me doing the disappearing, while I looked for Yuuri.”

“An’ ya found him.”

“Sure as eggs is eggs, I found him.” Victor gave a sad little laugh. He’d lost track of how many drinks he’d had as the evening had worn on. “More specif…fickly, I found his daughter.”

“Yeah, ya said. An’…he was married. That right?”

“ _Is_.” He sipped at his drink. “Very married.”

“Oh. So…how is it that the two of ya are together?”

Victor explained this as well. About leaving the wild west show when his contract was up and coming here to the foothills to live. Finding Yuuri freezing to death in the snow. Yuuri coming back when the cabin had been burning. Yuuri telling him he wanted him to stay, and his subsequent visits.

“So he’s got thangs goin’ both ways, does he,” Chris mused, swirling his whiskey around at the bottom of his mug.

“You know, it really isn’t his fault. Maybe it’s nobody’s fault. It’s just how things turned out.”

Chris eyed him. “An’ if ya believe that, you’re lyin’ to yerself. Sounds to me like ya both made decisions that got yuhz ta this point. Though I have to say, I wouldn’t wanna go through what you guys did them last few days in Larkspur for anything in the world. I’m amazed ya managed to get back together after all that.”

“The path of true love. And I’ll tell you a secret.” Victor winked. “Yuuri still has the most incredible ass.”

Chris chuckled. “That ain’t no secret, unless he started tryin’ to hide it.”

Victor sipped from his mug. “Hey, don’t eye up my boyfriend.”

“Ya know,” Chris said thoughtfully, “I’ve got a little confession ta make, after all this time. Back before the two of yuhz got together…well, when I say _together_ , I mean – ”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“So anyway, I took it upon myself to give the two of yuhz a helpin’ hand, ’cause it seemed to me like ya needed it. So I pulled Yuuri aside an’ told him about me an’ Zach. Then I said there was other guys like us on the ranch, though I weren’t at liberty to say who, but that they’d trusted me with confidences. An’ I told him to open his eyes a little more. Figgerin’ he ain’t dumb, which I don’t think he is, I thought he might come to the conclusion sooner or later that it was you who’d given me his confidence, ’cause he knew well enough we was friends. I think he was wonderin’ if you could have those kinds of feelin’s for him. If you can believe that. He really would’ve been as green as a teenager in a whorehouse not to notice, mind.”

Victor took in a breath and stared with bright eyes. “You did that? For me? For us?”

Chris gave him a smug grin. “Well it was obvious how you two was moonin’ after each other. Least, to me it was. If I weren’t such a good friend, ya know, I woulda thought it was funny.”

The next second, the breath was knocked out of him as Victor gave him a tight, rough hug. “Thank you. You _are_ a good friend.” Then he sat back again. “Sorry, I think I spilled some whiskey on you.” He flapped his fingers at a small wet patch on the sleeve of Chris’s flannel shirt.

“Don’t be so quick to thank me, pard,” Chris said in a more somber tone. “I’m still not sure I did either of yuhz a favor that day. Ya had a year together at most, an’ then the shit storm hit.”

Victor leaned back in his chair and stared at him. “I’d take a day, Chris…a _day_ …of feeling like this about somebody, if it meant I could.”

Chris stared back incredulously. “Wow,” he whispered, and finished the rest of his whiskey. “That’s somethin’ to say, all right. Poetic an’ all, for sure.” He looked at Victor keenly. “But the world don’t run on moonlight an’ dancin’. I’m sure you know that, after all you been through.”

“What d’you mean?”

“Well…this wife of Yuuri’s. She know he’s comin’ up here to…see you every weekend?”

Victor frowned and stared into the flames in the stove. After a moment he gave a long, weary sigh. “Not exa…ckly. He told her he’s been helping a young couple up here, to rebuild after the fire.”

Chris glanced around. “This is a nice little place you got here. I don’t see no fire damage.”

“It’s, um…well, it’s all fixed up now.”

“What’s his excuse for carryin’ on comin’ up here, then?”

“I – I don’t know. I don’t think he’s told her the cabin’s finished.”

“Well he’s gonna hafta at some point, ’cause these things don’t take forever.”

Victor was silent. He looked at the whiskey bottle, wondering if a little more might just slip down and soothe the ache that was growing in his heart.

“You said he’s got a daughter.”

Victor’s eyes brightened again. “He brought her up here a few weeks back. It was an accident, kind of a long story, but…she’s wonderful, Chris.”

“Loves her, does he?”

“Of course.”

“An’ you’re what…hopin’ he’s gonna leave his wife an’ kid for you?”

Victor stared at him. His mouth opened, but he didn’t speak for a moment. Then he said, “No.”

Chris shook his head. “Boy oh boy. You couldn’t be in a pricklier situation if you’d fallen off a cliff an’ landed ass first on a cactus. Here, how ’bout a little more whiskey ’fore I hit the hay.”


	68. Chapter 68

Victor insisted on sleeping himself in the hay pile he quickly arranged, while Chris had his first decent night’s sleep in a bed since he’d left the Circle C. The next day, and the days after that, they spent most of their time hunting, fishing and trapping, drying and smoking much of the meat and fish once they brought it back to the cabin. Victor insisted that Chris keep a generous share to take home with him. He helped Victor finish the chairs he’d begun, which were basic but sturdy. They rode into town once for supplies, and to have a meal and a drink, though it was a full day’s excursion, being several hours’ ride there and back.

Chris had come on a Monday; and in no time at all, it seemed to Victor, Friday afternoon came and went. He cooked up a stew for three people, in anticipation of Yuuri’s usual visit. But as he stirred it, while Chris checked the deer hide on the porch that they’d stretched out to dry on a large piece of wood, he discovered he was nervous as well. How would Yuuri react when he found out Chris was here? Maybe it wouldn’t be the pleasant surprise for him that Victor had been hoping for, if it meant they had little or no time alone. He could only hope a familiar face would be welcome.

As he put the ingredients for cornbread together and began to stir, he heard a commotion outside, and hearty shouts. Smiling to himself, he bustled out to the porch and saw Yuuri laughing and embracing Chris, who was giving him a delighted smile in return.

“Hey, Victor, did you know he was coming?” Yuuri asked as he pulled away, gripping Chris by his upper arms and looking him over.

“I should say so. I invited him.”

“You and your surprises,” he chuckled. “Say, you’re looking mighty fine. How _are_ you?”

“Yuuri, ya ol’ son of a gun. I’m doin’ great. An’ look at you – I wouldn’t know ya was a day over thirty. Now me, on the other han’…” He made a show of removing his Stetson and pointing to a small bald patch on the top of his head.

Yuuri laughed again and ruffled his hand over it. “I guess there’s worse things that can happen. How long have you been here at the cabin, then?”

They all went back inside, Yuuri and Chris chatting to each other while Victor placed the cornbread in the oven and seasoned the stew. Well that had put his fears soundly to rest, at least, he thought as a warm glow spread through his chest. It looked as if they’d have a good time together this weekend after all.

“Phichit decided to help run the store?” Yuuri echoed when Chris told him the news. “What, so he’s working there now, in a suit and everything?”

“Sho’ nuff. Zach said he was gettin’ kinda tired of sittin’ in the saddle an’ livin’ in a bunkhouse away from everyone else in the town, an’ then his dad had a spell of bein’ not very well, and he just kinda decided to step in. We see him now an’ then, an’ he seems happy enough.”

“Did…did he find someone? A girl? Is he married?”

“Y’know, I ain’t sure. I’ll ask him next time I see him.”

Yuuri shook his head. “I can’t believe it’s been so long. It sure is good to see you, Chris. Um…did you travel by yourself?”

“Zach couldn’t come, unfortunately. Well, he’ll be enjoyin’ some of these nice thangs I’ll be bringin’ back with me. I’ll have to see how I can pack that deer hide, if it’s dry by Monday.”

“Yeah, I saw that. It’s beautiful – really unusual. Did you get it when you were hunting, Victor?”

“Chris shot it when he got here,” he replied, serving the stew in tin bowls and putting it on the table. “That’s a Texan’s way of saying hello, didn’t you know?”

“It ain’t authentic unless ya shout ‘Yee-haw’ while ya do it,” Chris laughed.

They spent the evening drinking and making small talk, Yuuri getting his guitar out at one point and playing old cowboy songs they used to sing sometimes at the ranch. He continued to pluck notes afterward, asking Chris from time to time about people at the Circle C and in Larkspur. He inquired once about the Taylors, to which Chris responded that they were still running the Rafter T as they always had, and Yuuri mentioned nothing more about them after that. He asked after Clarissa as well, but Chris said he rarely went to Sweetwater Sam’s, preferring the Wagon Wheel; and on the few occasions he’d been there, he hadn’t seen her.

When they decided to retire for the night, Chris asked where Victor had stayed while the cabin was being rebuilt; and when he told him the workshop, Chris insisted on sleeping there, and giving the others their privacy. Refusing to take no for an answer, he at least allowed Victor to build a fire for him so that he wouldn’t get cold.

“I was sleepin’ on the trail for a week, an’ I’ve spent most of my life in a bunkhouse. This place is a palace compared to that,” he said.

Victor felt impossibly fond of his friend. The week had sailed by with him here, as well. Tasks were finished more quickly with a helping hand. And it was a relief to have someone to talk to sometimes, when Yuuri wasn’t around. Victor had always enjoyed spells of being alone, but they had been on his own terms, and bookended by warm interactions with friendly folks. That, perhaps, could be called solitude. Loneliness was a different feeling altogether; something unwanted, that ate away at you. He didn’t like to think too much about how familiar that feeling was becoming; it led to dark, painful places he didn’t care to visit.

Instead, he focused on the joy of being with the man he loved for two nights, and on Saturday and Sunday he took the others with him to a lake not far away. The weather was warm, and they spent leisurely hours bathing, washing clothes, fishing, and nibbling on snacks they’d brought, as well as sharing around more whiskey. The trick riding was less of a priority now that they’d been to a rodeo, though Yuuri suggested they ought to try to find another one to go to; and they got Chris to join them in their exercises, which he obligingly did, and was fit enough from ranch work to handle well for his first try. At ballet, though, he balked, saying his sinews would snap before they could bend that far. He’d just stick to barn dancing, if it was all the same to them.  

Before Yuuri left on Sunday afternoon, he gave Chris a long, firm hug and shed a few tears, saying it was a shame they’d only had a few days together, and he should keep in touch and let them know how he was doing. Victor had noticed that he hadn’t mentioned his family here more than perhaps a couple of times, when the issue had arisen, and then he’d deflected from the topic as quickly as possible; though Chris had been full of curiosity about his ranch, and Yuuri had been willing enough to discuss that. He was still working on ideas for how to improve accommodation at the bunkhouse, for example, without incurring huge costs; and he was in two minds about the efficacy of stringing barbed wire across fences. Chris, for his part, had avoided prying into Yuuri’s private life as well, and there had been plenty of other things to talk about besides.

Victor asked Chris to sleep in the bed again for his last night, and the following morning he packed his things. The deer hide he brushed and then removed from the wood on which it had been stretched. It would still need some work when he got it back to the ranch, but he said he was looking forward to it, and he was sure it would end up being a prized possession. He stood with Victor in the clearing, leaning against his horse’s saddle, clearly hesitant to begin the long trek back. Victor wished he didn’t have to go either. He’d decided he disliked living on a hill, from which he had to watch every visitor quickly disappear over its crest, as if the earth had swallowed them up.

“Well, I guess I better be moseyin’ along soon,” Chris said at length.

“Can’t you stay?” Victor laughed. “Ask Zach to come. We’ll…I don’t know. Be mountain men together.”

Chris chuckled. “Ah, Victor…you ain’t no mountain man yourself. You know that, dontcha?”

Victor raised an eyebrow. “I do all right for myself, don’t you think?” he said, glancing at the buildings surrounding them.

“That ain’t what I meant.” His tone had become unusually grave. “You’ve always been good at takin’ care of yourself, an’ you got more talent in your pinky than I got in my whole body. But ya ain’t no lone wolf, Victor; some frontiersman blazin’ trails, or drifter goin’ from town to town an’ happy to have no ties to anybody. You’re by yourself up here most of the time, no neighbors, hours away from civilization. No horses to tend, apart from your own. None of that amazin’ ridin’ you can do, apart from goin’ to the odd rodeo. No one to pass your skills on to. I seen you teach thangs to people at the ranch, an’ not just Yuuri. They still tame the mustangs at the Circle C the way you did, an’ they feed the horses all that good stuff too, like you used to. Though I’m proud ta say I’ve had a hand in all that myself. An’ I know you like bein’ around people. Most of the time, leastways. Can ya honestly tell me it’s a satisfyin’ life for you here? Just how permanent were you plannin’ for this to be?”

Victor folded his arms across his chest and let out a long breath, looking around. “It’s beautiful here. And I’ve put a fair bit of work into it over the past year or so.”

“That ain’t answerin’ my question.”

“All right, then. I wasn’t _planning_ anything.” He toed the ground with his boot, feeling like a heavy weight was settling on his chest. “I hadn’t planned on meeting up with Yuuri. It’s just that after all that searching, and then I found him – and then found out he was married with a daughter, and…well, I thought I’d see what this place was like. Catch some talk in town about how he was doing. I _was_ going to leave – ”

“Honey, you know as well as I do that some part of ya just didn’t wanna let go. That’s the real reason you came here, ain’t it? Even though the _rest_ of ya was tryin’ real hard to be respectful of Yuuri an’ his life here. Am I right?”

Victor looked at the ground and bit his lip. “I hardly ever went into town,” he said quietly. “How was I to know he’d come up here and get into trouble? It’s not exactly close to his ranch.”

“Well anyways, I guess it don’t do no good cryin’ over spilled milk, as the sayin’ goes. What’s done is done. An’…” Now he spoke more quietly himself. “…jeez, Victor, I ain’t gonna judge ya. God knows you been through hell. An’ if I got separated from Zach like that, I don’t know what I’d be tempted to do, neither.” He paused. “But you’re both kinda in hot water now, aintcha? Yuuri’s gonna feel forced, sooner or later, to make a decision – ’cause even if you’re OK sharin’ him with somebody else, his wife ain’t gonna be, I can guarantee it. I bet she’s lookin’ forward right now to gettin’ him back at the ranch on weekends.”

Victor gathered his arms more tightly around himself. A tear dropped to the ground, soaking into the dust. “I didn’t want to think this time would come, back when…when he kissed me, and said he loved me, and wanted to be with me.” He looked at Chris, his eyes suddenly fierce. “I know it’s true – he does.”

Chris shook his head and sighed. “I feel for ya, Victor. He’s a real nice guy, I’ve always known that; an’ it’s plain enough how much ya both still care about each other. But you’re also facin’ a real sonofabitch problem. I mean, let’s say you were OK with seein’ Yuuri just on weekends. It ain’t like Zach an’ me, because one of us ain’t cheatin’ on the other with someone else. You get jealous of Yuuri havin’ a wife?”

Victor stared at him with an angry expression that quickly faded as uncertainty took its place. “I…”

“Well, let’s say we both know the answer to that question.” He paused. “Ya know, I’m just tryin’ to give you some friendly advice before I go. My guess is, ya ain’t had none in a good long while. But if ya want me to shut up, I’ll shut up. I know this ain’t easy to hear.”

Victor was silent, blinking and continuing to bite his lip.

“Yuuri’s a nice guy, an’ he’s loyal. He’s loyal to you, but unless I’m mistaken, he’ll be loyal to his wife an’ kid, too. He probably hasn’t had any idea, all this time, what to do about bein’ pulled in two different directions.”

“What I wanted to avoid doing to him in the first place; why I didn’t go see him when I knew he was here.” Victor sniffed. “I…I messed up, Chris. I shouldn’t have come back here at all; I should’ve gone far away, where there was no chance of us meeting.” He let out a sob. “But god, that hurts to think about too.”

“You wanna go back in the cabin an’ have a drink?” Chris suggested, looking at him with concern.

“No…no, it’s OK. I do too much of that as it is.”

“OK, then,” Chris said gently. He idly fingered his horse’s reins, which were draped loosely in his hand. “So lookin’ ahead, to see if there’s some way outta this that works for ya both…Well, I don’t s’ppose anything’s gonna be easy…” He thought for a moment. “It occurs to me that all the time I’ve known ya, Victor, ya been puttin’ other people’s needs first. Which is sweet, ya know? But ya don’t pay your own much mind. An’ a relationship’s gotta be a partnership of equals if it’s gonna work out in the long run. ’Cause if you’re self-sacrificin’ to the point where you’re unhappy, that don’t do neither of yuhz any good, ’specially if you’re not even tellin’ the other person you’re hurtin’ inside. You gotta make decisions together, rather than jest goin’ with what the other person wants an’ actin’ like what _you_ want don’t matter none.”

“How am I supposed to tell him?” Victor blurted out in frustration.

“Cantcha talk to him?”

“I have no right to ask him for what I want now, Chris. It’s not my decision to make. I…I’ve done enough damage already, by putting him in this situation.” Christ, this conversation was getting more and more difficult, and he was getting a headache. Maybe he needed that drink after all.    

Silence fell for a moment. Then Chris said, “But what you do with your own life _is_ your decision…ain’t it?” Victor looked at him, his brow furrowed. “You could decide to carry on spendin’ lotsa your time here alone. Well, we talked about that already.” He paused again. “I don’t normally like makin’ suggestions to people, ’cause it’s usually better if they come up with ’em themselves. But seein’ as how we probably ain’t gonna see each other again for a long while, an’ you ain’t got that many other people to talk to here...well, is it OK if I speak my mind?”

“Sure.” _Like that isn’t what you’ve been doing all this time?_ Victor thought to himself.

“If you ask me for my frank opinion, you deserve better than this. Never mind what Yuuri _wants_ or _wishes_ or is even _able_ to do. If that ain’t enough for ya – an’ I think for most people, it wouldn’t be – then it ain’t enough. Go find someone who’ll spend every day with you, an’ not just put ya aside for weekends. Maybe ya love Yuuri somethin’ rotten. Maybe you’ll never love anyone else like that. But he ain’t the only fish in the sea, an’ maybe you can find somethin’ _different_ with someone else. He found a wife, didn’t he? How ’bout you – were you with anyone else those years you an’ Yuuri were apart?”

Victor felt stricken, and he was sure it showed in his face as he stared at Chris. He was…telling him to find somebody else?

“Were ya?”

“Oh. Um…” _Does Jonah count? Yes and no. No, because I didn’t love him. Yes, because I_ thought _for a while that I loved him, and moved in with him, and bought into his business. Worked with him, learned from him how to make furniture…But regardless of how I felt, I was still willing to try to get on with my life, wasn’t I? Though that was only because I thought I’d never see Yuuri again. I couldn’t actually_ leave _him. Never –_

“I can see ya got a lot to think about. Honestly, I weren’t plannin’ on givin’ ya a lecture or nothin’. I hope you can both find a way outta this an’ be happy. That’s what I wanna see, Victor – I want ya to be happy, pard.”

Victor wiped his eyes again and embraced Chris. “Thanks. I know.”

“Take care, ya ol’ cowhand.” He patted Victor’s back and then pulled away to mount his horse.

“You too. Telegraph me when you get back?”

“Sure thang. Keep in touch.”

“Will do.”

“OK, Davy, heave ho.” He glanced back at Victor and held a hand up, waving goodbye until he disappeared down the hill.

Victor stood and listened to him go. Soon the familiar quiet of the clearing settled on him like a pall. His stomach was tied in knots. He considered having a drink again.

_No, I’m not going to do that every time somebody visits and leaves. Or every time I’m upset._

After a long moment, he went to the stable and brought Luchik out. They would find somewhere to go together.

***

“Mommy, look at me! No hands!”

May jerked her head up and saw Taki with her arms raised high above her head as Daisy took her around the corral at a trot. She’d been getting lost in her own thoughts, leaning here against the fence, May realized, and wasn’t paying enough attention to what was happening in front of her. She knew Taki could get herself into trouble quicker than lightning.

“You get a hand back on the saddle horn!” she shouted at her daughter. “I don’t want you falling off.” A couple of ranch hands rode past on the path behind her, and she heard them laugh good-naturedly.

“But Daddy doesn’t need to do that! Daddy does somersaults and handstands and – ”

“Daddy’s a grown-up, and he…he’s practiced all that stuff for years. Don’t you go trying to copy what he does.” Somersaults and handstands? Honestly, her daughter’s capacity for exaggeration seemed to know no bounds.

 “OK. Watch me, Mommy.”

“I’m watching.” Though her thoughts continued to drift, fuelled by the disconcerting feeling – which seemed to grow a little more every day, like weeds left to fester in the garden ’til they’d choked off everything else – that her husband was becoming more distant from her, for reasons she couldn’t fathom. Was she doing anything different from how she ever had? Had there been any major changes in their lives lately? She didn’t think so. And she couldn’t put a finger on any specific incident and say, _There, that’s where things started to go wrong._ It was more of a feeling that the degree of intimacy they’d had was not what it was. From point A somewhere in their past, probably around the time of his trip to St. Louis, and point B now, it had been slowly swirling down the drain.

But why? Hadn’t she been a good wife, supportive and affectionate? They had a lovely daughter. A wonderful home. Money was never a worry. If Yuuri had any problems, they weren’t evident, and he didn’t share them.

_He didn’t share them._ Maybe that was it. So many things went on inside of him, there was no telling what they were or how she fit into them. As much as she loved him, she didn’t actually know her own husband all that well – she’d come to accept it a while ago; and the fact that he insisted on keeping as much of his past as he could a secret from her no doubt contributed greatly to this. But yet again, a promise was a promise – and it was a solemn one, too; the condition upon which he’d offered to marry her. 

She wondered if maybe that hadn’t been such a good idea after all. When she’d said yes, she’d felt so in love that she’d thought little about the possible consequences, figuring they’d simply make a good future together. But then again, was that so bad? Being young and looking forward in hope, rather than back in regret? Or…was it just naïve?

“Mommy, can I have a pair of jeans?” Taki called.

“What on earth do you want those for? You’re not a cowboy, you’re a little girl.”

Taki rode up to her on the other side of the fence. “Daddy says I should have pants for riding. Dresses aren’t made for riding.”

“But you look so pretty in them, Taki. You’re not a boy, either.”

“Lots of women wear pants when they ride. Karen at the Flying Arrow wears jeans all the time, and she’s a lady.”

“Well let’s all just be like Karen at the Flying Arrow, then, huh? We’ll start smoking cigars too, like she does, and swear up a blue streak, and see how everybody likes it.”

“ _I_ like her. She said she’d go riding with me sometime.”

May sighed. “We’ll see.” As Taki trotted back off in circles, she felt momentarily relieved that the old deflection still worked. It wouldn’t for much longer, she was sure.

As she watched, her thoughts came to rest once again on the odd little discovery she’d made the day before, when she’d been tidying around the house. It was perhaps the only clue she’d ever get to Yuuri’s past, though admittedly it didn’t seem like much. When she’d gotten to the bedroom, she’d noticed that he’d left his wooden glasses case on the night stand by his side of the bed; usually he kept it in a vest pocket, so he could take it out when he needed it, but he must have forgotten it when he’d gone out that morning. She’d picked it up with the intention of putting it in the drawer, when a sudden spark of curiosity caused her to take a closer look. She’d never examined it in detail before, and wondered about the exotic paintings on the top. They weren’t the kind of thing you usually saw on items made here in the west. Might Yuuri have traveled to someplace far away and bought this? Or could it have been given to him by somebody? It was also strangely elongated for a glasses case, so maybe it had originally been used for some other purpose.

With a vague creeping feeling of guilt, she held the sprung lid open, and saw that there were letters carved and stained in sepia in the light-colored wood on its underside. She read aloud: “To Yuuri Katsuki Taylor, love now and always, your Victor.”

She blinked and considered as she let the lid snap closed, then put the case in the drawer. _Your Victor_ – did that mean someone had won something for him? Someone close to him, obviously. Someone who loved him. But that could be anybody. It might have been a kindly old uncle who had given this to Yuuri when he was a little boy. Should she ask him? But that would mean admitting she’d been…well, could you call it snooping, exactly? It was just a glasses case. She couldn’t put it into words, but she felt like she’d transgressed into his private affairs somehow by doing this, and in a way that wouldn’t be welcome.

_He’s my husband, for Christ’s sake. I’m not a maid who’s been cleaning a hotel guest’s room. And it’s not as if I’ve been reading somebody’s diary._

“I think that’s enough for now,” she called to Taki. “I’ve got to start getting things ready for dinner, and I’d like you to help me.”

Taki moaned in disappointment. “Five more minutes… _please_?”

She sighed. “Fine. I’m timing you.”

The rest of yesterday had ended up being so busy that the glasses case had completely slipped her mind. Finally, with all her chores finished and Taki asleep, she’d tempted Yuuri to bed early, feeling like the closeness and warmth would do her a world of good. Odd how he’d been the one with the appetite for this early on in their relationship, while nowadays it was increasingly she who initiated. Well, maybe _odd_ wasn’t the best word, but it wasn’t something she wanted to dwell on. And how could she complain? As always, he was romantic, gentle, almost reverential. There were times, though, when she wished that at least once he’d take her like he meant it, with every fiber of his being; like his life depended on it. The thought sent a thrill through her. Just to know that he really did _want_ her, enough to lose himself in the moment…But it had never happened; and maybe that simply wasn’t the type of person Yuuri was. And maybe it would end up frightening her, too – who knew? Maybe it wasn’t who she was, either. Most likely she’d never find out.

“Yuuri…” she’d said afterward, while he was lying half-asleep with an arm around her shoulders, “…did you know you’d left your glasses case on the night stand this morning? I thought you might end up looking for it and not know where it was.”

“Hmm?” he said, coming back to full consciousness. “Oh…” A sudden look of concern sprang into his eyes. “No, I didn’t. Have – have you got it?”

“It’s OK; I put it in the drawer.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”

After a silence, she added, “I hope you don’t mind, but it was so pretty, and I’d never had a good look at it before, so – ”

“Y-you opened it?”

“Well, yeah. I was just wondering where you’d gotten it from, and who – ”

“It was given to me by a good friend a long time ago,” he said quickly.

“Oh.”

He leaned over and opened the drawer, seemingly to reassure himself that the case was inside. Then May heard him mutter to himself, “I’m such an idiot. How could I be so careless. Stupid – ”

“Do you want to tell me about it? I mean, who – ”

He lay back down and turned his head toward her, and his eyes were almost feverish in their intensity. “You promised,” he whispered. “I – I can’t…please, May.”

She sighed. “All right.” And as she caressed his chest and snuggled up against him, the tension gradually leaked away from his muscles, and eventually he seemed to have fallen into a light slumber.

But it was a long time before she followed him.


	69. Chapter 69

Yuuri opened the door to the cabin. There had been no lights shining through the windows of any of the buildings, from lanterns or fires; but it would be an hour and a half or so before the sun set, so maybe that wasn’t too unusual. Ever since Yuuri had been coming at regular times on Fridays, Victor had always made sure that he’d been in the vicinity somewhere, even if it had been the stable or the new shed. Often Yuuri walked into the cabin to be greeted with the aroma of something wonderful cooking, and Victor turning to give him a bright smile.

He saw, however, that the stove was cold – no food cooking, no fire lit. Maybe Victor was in the workshop, making a piece of furniture? He put his saddlebags and guitar on the floor and prepared to close the door behind him.

“Yuuri.” Victor’s voice came weakly from behind the door, on the side of the room where the bed was. It was cracked and rough. His heart giving a leap, Yuuri hurried inside and looked over to see him huddled under the covers, bloodshot eyes peering wearily at him.

“Victor,” he breathed, looking down at him, “what’s wrong – are you sick?”

“I don’t feel too good.”

“Shit. How long have you been like this?”

“I’m not sure…maybe a few days. I couldn’t get a message to you, to tell you not to come.”

Yuuri huffed. “You think I wouldn’t want to come just because you were sick?” He looked at the little table next to the bed, saw that the top of it was bare, and bustled over to the counter to pour Victor a glass of water from what remained in the tin jug, then brought it back over.

“Well you usually come in expecting a fuck right away, and I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Yuuri felt like he’d suddenly been stabbed. Victor seemed to notice the effect his words had had, despite the glazed look in his eyes.

“Sorry,” he said quietly. “That…that was a mean thing to say. And…not very honest either. I look forward to it as much as you do.” He coughed heavily. “I’m not myself. I…I wish I could’ve told you not to come.”

Yuuri took a deep breath. “Can you sit up to have a drink?”

Victor heaved himself slowly up, propped against the pillows. Yuuri handed him the mug, and he took a sip, then greedily finished the rest.

“When was the last time you had anything to drink?”

“I can’t remember.”

Yuuri shook his head with a sad smirk. “You’re not very good at being sick, are you? And when it happens, you can be an ornery old cuss.” Victor started to protest, but it turned into a cough. Yuuri caressed the top of his head, then held the back of his hand against his forehead. “I think you’ve got a fever, too. You really need to make sure you have enough to drink. I’ll go fetch some more water from the well.”

“Yes, Mom.”

Yuuri just shook his head again and grabbed the tin jug.

The next few days felt very different to Yuuri from what he was used to on his visits. There was no trick riding, no exercising or dancing, none of the busy work of day-to-day life that he always willingly shared with Victor, though he did what he could on his own. Victor had good stores of dried meat, and some fresh, though at this time of year it wouldn’t last long before it spoiled. He knew where Victor kept most of his traps, and checked them, even though he hated seeing wounded and dead animals caught in steel jaws or in pits. Cooking for them both was something he found himself enjoying, since it was Victor who usually did the lion’s share of that. It seemed they both liked it and weren’t too bad at it. In another life, maybe they could have been chefs, and run a restaurant together. Things might have been simpler that way, he mused.

Victor was slow to recover from whatever bug he’d caught, and he insisted that Yuuri sleep on a hay pile rather than in the bed with him, because he said the last thing he wanted was to pass on his germs. Yuuri said that if he was going to catch them, he’d catch them just from being in the cabin. But fair enough, if that was what he wanted. Even when he was sick, Victor could be imperious when he insisted on a point. It was rare that he did, which somehow made it all the more forceful. Yuuri suspected what made him so vulnerable to it was the memory of having been young and in awe of Victor: his talents, his beauty, his sensuality – everything. He expected he always would be, to an extent. And he’d coached Yuuri in the trick riding as well, and Yuuri had gotten used to being told what to do in that sense, even though he always reserved the right to come straight back and decide to do the opposite if he felt like it. There was still some part of him, though, that was cowed whenever Victor put his foot down. Well anyway, he didn’t see any point in arguing about something as trivial as sleeping in the same bed or not for a few nights.

When Sunday afternoon came around, Victor’s health hadn’t improved a great deal. He’d barely been able to rouse himself from bed, and still seemed very weak. If he at least had neighbors, that would be something; but Yuuri didn’t want to think of him in this state all by himself up here, so he resolved to stay a few more days.

“Won’t they miss you at the ranch?” Victor asked as he lay under the covers, looking at Yuuri, who had sat down in a chair with his guitar and was strumming and plucking idly.

“They know where I am. And they know all kinds of things can happen up here to delay somebody. It’ll be OK. I’m not leaving you here like this.” He strummed some more.

Victor closed his eyes and grinned. “Will you play for me? I like those Italian songs you know.”

Yuuri did so for the next half hour. He thought Victor had drifted off to sleep.

“I liked that,” Victor said softly, “but you have such a lovely voice, Yuuri. Will you play some things you can sing?”

Yuuri chuckled and shook his head. “Yuuri Katsuki, performing for your pleasure today. I ought to think of a better stage name.”

“It’s the only pleasure I’m going to get while I feel like this.”

Yuuri’s eyes darkened. “Say the word, and I’ll prove you wrong.”

Victor choked in surprise and then coughed, his cheeks going pink. Yuuri just laughed and began to sing an old trail song, plucking out the melody as he went along.

Later that night, after a meal of chicken soup and biscuits, Victor said he was beginning to feel a little better, and Yuuri pulled the tin bathtub inside and boiled water for it in the largest pot Victor had. It always took a lot of time to get the whole thing filled, and at just the right temperature, but he’d come to appreciate this creature comfort about as much as Victor did, he reckoned. Yuuri put an arm out to steady him as he removed his clothes and then settled into the tub.

“I needed this,” he sighed, sinking back into the steaming water with a catlike look of satisfaction.

Yuuri took the washcloth he’d placed by his side, dipped it in the water, wrung it out, and dabbed at Victor’s face.

“I’m getting the special pampering treatment tonight, huh?”

Yuuri smiled. “Yeah.”

“Lucky me.”

“Lucky you.” Yuuri rubbed some soap on the cloth and began moving it over Victor’s chest in gentle circles. Victor closed his eyes and let out a long breath. “You know, I could get used to living like this,” Yuuri added. Victor’s eyes opened again and gazed at him, two blue pools. “I always thought ranching was in my blood. It’s what I was raised to do. But when you don’t work for anybody but yourself, everything you do is for the benefit of you or the people in your home.”

“ _You_ don’t work for anybody.”

Yuuri thought for a moment. “Well, I guess you could say I run the ranch for everybody. With help. If I had the choice, I…I think I’d rather live in a small place like this, and not have to worry about employing people and keeping them happy. Or raising cattle and what the price of beef is. Keeping all the buildings in repair, and the fences. Now the horses – I’ve never minded being in charge of those.” He smiled.

“So why did you do it, Yuuri? Buy a ranch to run?”

He paused with the washcloth and looked down. “You know how I used to talk. I thought it was what I wanted. And after everything that happened…I guess I felt like all I had left was my old dreams, because…because the new ones had died.” His voice shook slightly. “I…I like being with you here, like this. It…feels like being home. I wish…” His voice trailed off, and he put more soap on the washcloth and moved it further down Victor’s abdomen.

“I like that word, ‘home.’ I haven’t been anyplace that I could call home in a very long time. But…maybe it’s not so much the place, as the people.”

Yuuri quirked a smile. “That’s a nice thought,” he said softly. He noticed where his fingers had been headed. “Looks to me as if you’re enjoying this treatment,” he said, his smile broadening.

“How could I not?” Victor purred.

Yuuri draped the washcloth across Victor’s stomach and shifted his position on the floor next to the tub so that he could give Victor a gentle kiss next to his earlobe. As he worked his way around his cheek and jaw, his hand slipped down and gripped his erect cock, giving it slow pulls. Victor sucked in a breath.

“Relax, baby,” Yuuri whispered into his ear. “Let me take care of you.” Victor moaned and shuddered, and Yuuri grinned, gradually quickening his motions. This was making him as hot as it seemed to be making Victor; and though he knew it would take a fair bit of concentration and dexterity to be doing separate things with both hands as well as his mouth, he reached down with his dry hand and released his own straining cock, letting out a groan as he teased and stroked it.

“God, that’s sexy as hell,” Victor said hoarsely. He couldn’t see what Yuuri was doing, but Yuuri knew the sounds he was making and the expression on his face must be enough. He got on his knees, continuing to work both of his hands, and leaned over for a kiss. Sickness bugs be damned; he had been longing for this for days. This time there was no complaint from Victor, who returned the kiss with equal vigor, licking into Yuuri’s mouth.

Yuuri moaned his name, planting kisses along his jaw, which was prickly again with several days’ worth of stubble. He nuzzled it, enjoying the roughness against his cheek. Victor’s hand reached around and cupped the back of Yuuri’s head, and with the other he gripped his balls under the water and began to pull and knead them while Yuuri continued to stroke his cock. Yuuri watched, gasping now, then turned his head back for another sloppy kiss before crying out Victor’s name against his lips, his eyes wide with that heady mixture of pleasure bordering on pain. Victor wrapped a hand around Yuuri’s own faltering one and, with several more quick strokes, bucked his hips and erupted onto the washcloth with a groan. Yuuri milked him through it, his eyes now looking into Victor’s, warm and wondering.

“If that’s your idea of playing nurse,” Victor panted, releasing his grip, “I ought to get sick more often.”

Yuuri laughed and gave him a lingering kiss, then cleaned them both up with the washcloth.

Victor finished his bath with Yuuri’s assistance, then got out, toweled off, and went straight to bed, barely able to keep his eyes open. Yuuri lay down next to him and held him as he went to sleep. _Bugs be damned_ , he thought again. Anything was worth enduring for moments like this.

Victor slept like a rock and was feeling noticeably better the next day. Yuuri remained, just to make sure, doing more heavy work for him while he was still recovering. Under Victor’s guidance, he dug in the vegetable patch and planted more seeds, then grabbed an axe and went to chop some firewood. It was June now, and the summer heat had arrived. Yuuri breathed in the aroma of pine and resin, removing his shirt and relishing the breeze across his sweaty skin as he got into a rhythm with the chopping. He noticed Victor staring at him shamelessly, and smirked, knowing he always liked a good view of his muscles when he was busy with some task.

He cooked simple meals for them, though Victor’s appetite was returning, and he spent less time in bed. And Yuuri thought he really ought to take a turn with the bathtub himself that evening, so he went through the usual ritual of fetching and boiling water for it. He’d just poured another potful into the tub and was about to fetch more, when he felt Victor’s arms slide around his waist from behind, and there was a kiss on his shoulder.

“You’ve been so good to me,” Victor mouthed against the fabric of his shirt. “Thank you. I hope they don’t give you too much trouble back at the ranch.”

“Well, it’s not the same as when Taki was missing. They’ll be worried, but…it’s just been a few extra days. Though I think I’d better be on my way tomorrow.” He sighed and placed his hands on top of Victor’s own. “I wish I could stay.”

Victor’s arms tightened around him. “I’m sorry for being so grouchy, especially when you got here. You were very patient, you know. And I’m sorry for suggesting you only come here for a fuck.”

Yuuri laughed and turned to face him. “It’s OK,” he said, draping his arms around his neck. “But…” he added in a quiet voice, with a mischievous smile and a twinkle in his eyes, “…if that’s an option now, I wouldn’t say no.”

Victor pulled him close and kissed him with the energy that had deserted him for days.

***

“God _damn_ it, Yuuri, when is this going to end?” May threw the dish towel on the kitchen floor in exasperation. She’d left Taki outside, riding under Pat’s supervision, this time with a solemn vow from him that he would not take his eyes off her. A fury had bubbled up inside of May when Yuuri had ridden back to the ranch late that afternoon, as easy as you please. She’d been so worried about him, she’d been trembling; and Taki had been frightened, too. She read shock and fear in his eyes. Well, maybe that meant the point was getting across.

“They were sick, May. There was no one up there to help them. It’s a hard life, and when you’re stuck in bed for days – ”

“Couldn’t you at least have sent us a message?”

He lifted his hands up in a gesture of helplessness. “How? There was no one else there – that was the problem. I figured you’d understand – ”

“ _Understand?_ ” Her voice had risen drastically, and she took a deep breath to try and calm herself. “What, that my husband could have been injured, dying, or killed in a hundred different ways? I don’t even know where the hell it is you go, if I wanted to send people out to look for you!”

He wiped a shaky hand across his forehead. “It was hard to know what to do for the best. I’m sorry.”

“I’ll _tell_ you what to do for the best, Yuuri Katsuki. Stop going up to that goddamn cabin. Whatever you’ve been doing there must surely be finished by now. You’ve got family _here_ , and I’m…I’m getting fed up with it! I can’t stand it anymore!” To her shame, she burst into tears.

He looked utterly lost for what to say or how to respond. “May, I – ”

“But…but what’s even worse is how this whole business seems to have changed you,” she added, forcing herself to modulate her voice better. The last thing she wanted was to appear hysterical. But she’d been bottling these things up for so long. Before he could reply, she added, “It’s like you’re pulling further and further into a shell or something. You don’t share things with me anymore – not that you ever did, much. You don’t even seem to want to be around me sometimes. I…I don’t know what’s going on in your world, Yuuri, but I don’t feel like I’m a part of it. Have…have I done something wrong? Do you not want me anymore? As a woman? As a wife? I don’t understand. Just…god, just please tell me.” She let out a sob.

Yuuri’s eyes were still wide. He whispered her name as he gathered her in his arms. “I had no idea you were so upset,” he said into her hair.

For a moment she could do nothing but cry, held by the source of her pain but also her solace, and it was the latter she focused on. “It’s been really hard, all this time,” she sniffled. “I tried, because I knew how important it was to you. But…oh Yuuri, please just come home and be with us. Taki misses you, too.”

“I…I know.” He stroked her back. “I’ll see what I can do.” He paused for a moment. “I’ll send a message saying I won’t be coming this weekend; that’s just a few days away anyway. I’ll need to go back the following one though, and talk with them. We’ll…see what we can arrange.” His voice had quietened further.

“Thank you,” she said against his shirt, holding his shoulders tight.

It was past time to make some serious decisions, Yuuri knew.

In the next week and a half, he was going to have to look deep into places inside himself that he’d been avoiding, coax whatever courage he possessed out of the shadows there, and…hurt someone. Whatever he chose to do.


	70. Chapter 70

Victor pulled a chair onto the porch and sat, listening to the breeze blow through the pine boughs. His stomach churned. It was still hard to believe how things had changed so much for him between Yuuri’s last visit and now. It hadn’t been that long; a week and a half. And they’d had the most wonderful, intimate time together.

But that was part of the reason. It had been _too_ good; that notion had struck Victor afterwards. It was the way things could be all the time, if they were together. Properly together, as a couple, with no one else in between. It was like dangling the choicest piece of bait in front of a bear, knowing full well you’d always keep it just out of reach as you stoked the creature’s rage to breaking point.

_I’m not angry, though. Just…so, so sad. And I know it’s not all his fault. I landed him in it, after all. But what Chris said…_

About the loneliness here. Sharing a lover. Being a part-time…whatever he was; and soon maybe not even that, now that the cabin had been finished for a while. He hadn’t wanted to hear what Chris had said. Had been sealing himself away in the warm bubble of his love for Yuuri. While the rest of his life went on, rather bleakly. He used to believe it was enough. But he’d had to face the fact over the past week and a half that Chris had been right, and it wasn’t.

It wasn’t Yuuri’s fault that he had ended up in this situation, either; he’d thought Victor was dead and had been trying to make the most of his life. Victor knew he could never ask Yuuri to leave his wife and child for him. It had always felt like the most horrendously selfish thing he could possibly do. It still did. And he could _not_ be the reason why Yuuri lost that wonderful daughter of his. She’d go wherever the mother went; and Yuuri had mentioned once that she was originally from Boston, which was a very long way away if the family were to split up.

Well, they weren’t going to. Somehow Victor had to mitigate the damage he’d done, and free both Yuuri and himself from the chains that had been binding them for months. It was going to hurt – but then, that described every possible alternative.

He used to think love would be enough. That the fire that burned between the two of them was so hot and bright that it would end up searing away every complication in its path. But that had never been the case. It hadn’t saved them in Larkspur, and it hadn’t made things better here. Admitting that Chris had been right was like trying to digest a pile of stones. And then staring at the physical evidence of all his hard work and Yuuri’s over the past year and more made it worse.

They were simply out of time now. Yuuri no longer had an excuse to come up here and visit. That had been the situation for a while, and waiting for what was going to happen next had come to Victor to feel like the Sword of Damocles suspended over his head. Well, if Yuuri wasn’t going to act, then it was up to him. And he was going to do what he thought was best for them both. He would take that step. Today, when Yuuri came.

He’d been considering his options for a long time, and several days ago he had chosen with a leaden heart, and ever since had been living with that weight upon him. Countless times thinking, _How can I…What if…I can’t do it._ Crying until he had no more tears left to shed. Sitting quietly, numb in body and soul. Being assailed by all his treasured memories, telling him he couldn’t throw away what he had. But what _did_ he have? That was the problem.

He was about to do the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. He didn’t even know what would be left of him afterward.     

He was suddenly wracked with sobs again, and he put his head in his hands as he sat. These fits would ebb and flow like waves. He rode this one out, then wiped his face with a handkerchief and went inside the cabin with his chair. Half of his clothes were folded in neat piles on the bed. He started to pull more out.

“Victor…hi.”

Yuuri’s gentle voice came from behind him, and Victor turned to see him in the doorway. He’d put his saddlebags and guitar on the floor and was looking at him with curiosity.

“Having a spring clean? Little late for that.” He smiled.

“No,” Victor said quietly, dropping a couple of folded shirts onto the pile.

Yuuri came over to him and slowly put an arm around his waist, but Victor stiffened and he pulled it away.

His face fell. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

“Yuuri…we, um, need to talk.”

Yuuri was silent for a moment. “Yeah…we do.” He sighed and sat down in a chair. “OK, you first. What’s up? You…you look like you haven’t been sleeping. And your eyes are red. You’re not sick still – ”

“No, I’m not sick.” He could see fear creeping into those beautiful brown eyes and hated himself already, but was determined to plow on. He’d spent days steeling himself for this conversation. “I…think we need to end this.” He swallowed and looked away, gripping his upper arm with his opposite hand. He needed to hold on to _something._

“End what?” Yuuri stared at him, and he said more loudly, “Victor, end _what_? What do you mean?”

“I’m going to leave. I think it’s the only way forward for…for both of us.” He forced himself to meet Yuuri’s increasingly disbelieving and panicked gaze. Yuuri took in a breath to speak, but Victor carried on, “I got it wrong, Yuuri – twice. I shouldn’t have come back when I’d met your daughter and knew you had a family. I should’ve made sure I went far enough away that there was no possibility we’d meet, and you could carry on with your life as it was. And then, when we _did_ bump into each other, that was another opportunity that I missed. I should’ve gone. And instead I ended up putting you in an impossible situation. I hope you can see I never meant to.”

Yuuri shot up out of his chair and strode over to Victor so that he was standing in front of him, his eyes bright and brimming with tears. He placed a palm on Victor’s chest. “Don’t ever…you can’t ever say that. Do you understand, Victor? I would’ve _wanted_ to know you were alive. Don’t try to tell me you think it was best that I carried on being ignorant of…of the reality, for my own good or something. Why else do you think I went looking for you in St. Louis? I love you – I’ve _always_ loved you – more than anyone else I’ve ever known; more than I ever thought it was possible to love someone. Living without you, well…it was like…” He seemed to be struggling to decide how to explain.

Victor’s heart felt like a pin cushion, and both of them were sticking more and more in. This was even worse than he’d imagined. “Like those years when we _were_ living without each other?” he finished for him. “You got your life back on track. You went on. Everybody does.”

Yuuri pulled his hand away and stood with them at his sides. “So…you’ve decided to leave, and…what, we’re just supposed to…go _on_? Is that what you’re saying?” His voice remained quiet. Somehow to Victor it was more painful than being shouted at.

Victor tried to dive through the turmoil of his emotions and get at the core of the matter, to help Yuuri see. He looked into his eyes and felt the pain there burn into him. “Yuuri,” he said as gently as he could manage, his voice low, “you can’t forever be torn in two. This…arrangement we’ve had, I’m not sure it’s worked very well for anyone. It…I can’t stay up here like this, by myself, for the rest of my life, with visits a few days a week. And…well, we never did come up with an answer for what was going to happen once your excuse for coming here was gone. And all this time, I can’t imagine it’s been helping things for you and…and your family, back at the ranch.” He swallowed. “It’s best if I go. That settles it for everyone.”

“No…Victor, please. I can’t lose you again.” Tears were falling freely down Yuuri’s cheeks. And oh god, Victor remembered what it was like months back, after the fire, when Yuuri had said similar things. _Stay, Victor. I love you. I can’t lose you, now that we’re back together._ But giving in had only led them to this point. Another chance, perhaps, to get it right this time around.

He forced his own tears back. Took a deep breath. And stood his ground. “We both have to move on, Yuuri. It’s the only way. We can’t keep doing this, we…we just can’t be together; it’s not working. And…” He sighed, watching the tears roll down Yuuri’s face and loathing that he himself was their cause. “…I don’t want there to be any doubt about it. There’s no going back, this time. Because otherwise we might just keep chasing each other around the country the rest of our lives. I…I’m going to leave, and I don’t want…I’m _telling_ you not to try and follow me. Don’t try to find out where I’ve gone. You stay here with your family, and I…I’ll start again somewhere else. I’m good at that.”

Yuuri made a choking sound, his eyes wide. He shook his head slowly. “You can’t mean that,” he whispered. “After everything we’ve been through? A-After everything we’ve shared together? Weren’t you glad we found each other again?”

A tear escaped Victor’s eye and trailed down his cheek. He said more softly, “We can’t live like this, baby. We shouldn’t even have tried. We…we’re hurting each other. And it’s just going to get worse. You know how I feel about you. That will never, ever change. But…I have to do this. And if you love me too, you’ll do as I’ve said and let me go. Live well. Be whole, and content if you can. And…remember me.”

Yuuri let out a loud sob, and his body trembled. He placed a hand over his mouth, but just as quickly drew it away. “Do you think, in a million years, I could ever forget… _any_ of it?”

Another tear dropped down Victor’s face. “Me either.”

They stood for a moment, the only sound in the room their ragged breaths. “I can’t…I just can’t…” Yuuri put his face in his hand for a moment and cried. His other hand gripped the table next to him.

Victor’s heart gave a lurch, and his own tears fell freely now too. No – he had to pull himself together, or Yuuri would think he could chisel through a crack and get him to change his mind. He had to be strong, for both their sakes.

“Victor, my heart’s breaking,” Yuuri sobbed, his face a picture of misery. “Please don’t do this.”

_Mine is too._ “I’m so sorry, Yuuri. But it’s for the best.” He sniffed and wiped at his face with his handkerchief.

Yuuri took several deep breaths. “W-what were you planning to go and do?”

“I haven’t thought very far ahead. More rodeos, maybe, or…or wild west shows. They’re getting popular now. I might even find a ranch to work at. I could do with being around people again.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri breathed out shakily. “I’m sure.” They stared at each other. “Isn’t there anything – ”

“I’m not changing my mind, Yuuri,” Victor said a little more firmly than he’d intended. Yuuri flinched back like he’d received a blow.

“OK,” he said very quietly, and swallowed. “OK. I, um…there’s no point in me staying any longer. I guess I’d better go.” He looked around, and back at Victor, who was silent. Then, with trembling fingers, he untied his bandanna from the nape of his neck, rolled it up, took Victor’s hand, and placed it in his palm. “It’s all I’ve got to give you, but…I guess by now it means more to both of us than just a piece of cloth. Keep it, and…and think about me.” His voice broke on the last words, and more quiet sobs escaped his throat. Then he stood on tiptoe, kissed Victor’s cheek, ducked away and picked up his guitar and saddlebags, and went out the door. Victor listened to him going to the stable, fetching Biscuit, loading the things onto her back that he’d only removed minutes before, and guiding her away down the hill.

_I can still go after him. Stop this. Tell him it was all a mistake. It’s not too late._

_No. I…broke up…with him for a reason. I’m going to stand here and…and cry. Jesus._

Yuuri hadn’t even thought to take his belongings that he’d left here in the cabin. Of course not; he was utterly distraught – they both were. There was his toothbrush, in the cup next to the pitcher and basin. He had a spare shirt, pants, drawers and socks in the dresser. And…oh god. That army officer’s uniform. He’d left that here too. Victor felt sick. He fell into a sitting position on the bed. That first day Yuuri had worn it; had made him close his eyes while he changed into it, and then given him the surprise of his life. The fun they’d had. It was one memory of a hundred…a thousand, all made with that special, wonderful man – who he’d just ended things with on no uncertain terms, and who was now riding down the hill and out of his life forever..

He’d been sure that the decision he’d made was the best thing for them both. So why did it feel like the person who had been Victor Nikiforov was disintegrating like campfire ashes at the first touch of a morning breeze?

***

It was nearly midnight when Yuuri arrived back at the ranch. He dismounted and guided Biscuit to the stable as quietly as he could, so as not to wake anyone. Put her in her stall. Removed his guitar and saddlebags, still laden with the food he’d intended to leave at the cabin. Placed them on the earthen floor. Picked up a brush and began grooming his horse by the light of the lantern that had guided him along the trail. It was all mechanical; an attempt to soothe. He’d hardly dared to let himself reflect on his feelings all the way back, or they would have been the most painful hours of his life. Shock and numbness were preferable at the time. But the dam would only hold so long before the pressure became too great for it to bear.

_I can’t believe it. I can’t believe this has happened. I never thought, never imagined…_ His fingers on the brush began to tremble. _I won’t be going back to that cabin again. Won’t be seeing Victor. Never…again._

It was no use. He couldn’t hold it all back any longer. He leaned against the planked wall of the stall, clutched at the brush in his hand, and sobbed and keened. The bunkhouse wasn’t within earshot, and there was no one around. His heart had been shattered as surely as if it had been hit by a bullet, and everything was in pieces. He didn’t even want to wonder what tomorrow would bring. If only today hadn’t happened. Right now, he should have been lying in Victor’s bed, in his arms. He batted the image away. It was like a knife twisting in his gut.

_This is the risk you take when you love someone so deeply. This is how deeply they can hurt you, too._

He knew this. He knew it when he thought Victor had died. It hadn’t stopped him going back to Victor with joy in his heart, though, when he got the chance. It never would. And he knew full well that it wasn’t entirely Victor’s fault, what had happened. In fact, Yuuri suspected that he himself had rightfully to accept responsibility for much of it. But he couldn’t think about that now. Couldn’t think through the pain, the shock, the disbelief.

_Don’t leave me in the dark, where I can’t find you. Don’t go. Please, Victor._

He couldn’t face entering the house, getting into bed with May. Couldn’t face any of it. He grabbed a blanket from his saddlebags and curled up on a pile of hay in a corner, pulling the blanket on top of him, then turned down the wick in his lantern until it went out. The occasional snort and stamp of a hoof, and the familiar smells of the stable, took him back to the nights at the Circle C when he and Victor had snuck out, made love, and snuggled together. He could just about imagine them spooning here, with Victor’s arms wrapped around him.

He fell asleep imagining it, only to find emptiness at his side in the cold, dark hours before the sunrise. 

***

The dawn, despite a glittering golden sun in a deep blue sky, was cheerless. Yuuri felt like he was moving in a dream, or underwater. Like nothing was quite real. May wanted to know why he’d returned to the ranch so soon. He hadn’t told her he’d spent the night in the stable; he’d gotten up out of the hay pile before any of the ranch hands had come in that morning. He simply told her what he knew she wanted to hear anyway: that he’d announced a decision not to return to the cabin in the future, and had left after that, knowing his family wanted him home. It was perhaps, at least, the final horrible, twisted lie he would have to tell in that respect. But the knowledge gave him no relief.

As the days passed, he tried to hold on to the things that had always given him pleasure, but he felt like a drowning man clutching at a feeble life raft and pulling it down with him. He tried trick riding, but all he could think about was Victor, and he knew he would hurt himself through lack of concentration if he persevered. He couldn’t make himself do any gymnastics or exercises, either. There was no music or song in him, and his guitar collected dust in the corner. With no appetite, he had to force himself to eat. Sometimes he felt like a ghost wandering around the halls in the house, or the paths on the ranch. People asked him if anything was the matter, but he would brush their questions off.

He drank his way through a few bottles of whiskey, but it was like trying to heal an amputation with a ball of cotton wool. There was no use in it, and being semi-drunk and miserable could sometimes feel worse than being sober in such a mood.

He went out riding with Taki, but she complained about how quiet he was, and the pleasure he usually took in her presence became irritation with all the times she wanted to stop and look at things, or ask him the sorts of questions that required patience and ingenuity, which he had in short supply. _Daddy, are there more leaves in the world, or blades of grass? What about trees? Are there more trees than buildings? Are there more bricks in the world or bird feathers?_ _Why did swear words get invented if we’re not allowed to say them?_ And the worst one by far: _If you don’t go to the cabin anymore, won’t you miss Vicky?_ On some level he was still touched by it all, but he was unable to summon the energy to deal with it, and eventually took to riding Biscuit by himself for hours at a time, out to streams and lakes and places where he hoped to be able to collect himself, away from the pressures of the ranch. But the mountains were always over there in the west, where he could see them; and Victor’s cabin nestled somewhere within.

Had Victor gone by now? He thought about what they’d built together. Maybe Victor had sold the place. Or maybe he’d just left it to gradually succumb to the elements, year on year; or to be found by some other enterprising person looking to make a living in the mountains. Were his table and chairs still there? The tin bathtub? The bed? Pots, pans…furniture-making tools, gymnastic apparatus? Would those vegetable seeds just grow and die with no one to ever set eyes on them again?

He put his head in his hands and cried for what felt like hours, though the hurt was still tightly lodged inside of him. It was like Larkspur all over again. But how could he even start to grieve as long as he knew that Victor was out there somewhere, alive? 

_I’m_ telling _you not to try and follow me. Don’t try to find out where I’ve gone. You stay here with your family, and I…I’ll start again somewhere else. I’m good at that._

“No, no, please no,” Yuuri whispered, and sobbed again.


	71. Chapter 71

_He would not stay for me, and who can wonder?_  
_He would not stay for me to stand and gaze._  
_I shook his hand, and tore my heart in sunder,_  
_And went with half my life about my ways._

_A. E. Houseman_

  


“Pass me the soap and the grater, will you, Jean?” Rose asked. They were handed to her by the other woman, and she grated flakes of soap into the wooden bucket filled with hot water, then plunged her washboard in and began scrubbing the stained front of a white flannel shirt.

May took the soap and grater back and did the same into her bucket. She and Jean were sharing one, and Rose and another woman their age called Annie shared a second bucket. They were outside at the Hendersons’ ranch, gathered on a patch of grass near a stream where a fire had been lit, with a sturdy iron trivet over it. They had filled a large copper pot with water from the stream and boiled it over the fire, several times over, to pour into the buckets. Taki and Sally had been taken for a ride on their ponies with one of the ranch hands. It was all normal routine for a Monday.

May’s life, however, felt anything but normal. It never had been since Yuuri had started going up to that cabin. It still haunted them both, even though it had been over a month since his last visit. He’d come home at some ridiculous time in the morning; he had to have done, because when she was in the kitchen at seven a.m., he’d come in the front door and put food away from his saddlebags; food he’d taken with him to leave at the cabin, as he always did. Had they had a fight about something, him and the people up there? Maybe they hadn’t been happy that he said he wasn’t coming back. By this point, she really couldn’t sympathize.

Yuuri had also appeared disheveled, and there was a lost look in his eyes. That old bandanna of his, which he wore everywhere, had disappeared; when she asked him about it, he said he didn’t need it anymore. He had the manner of someone who’d been utterly crushed. She attempted to talk to him about it, but more fool her. He was never talkative when he’d been in such moods in the past…though this was the darkest one yet, and she was a little frightened by its intensity.

She told herself he must be upset about not going to the cabin anymore. Something up there had obviously been compelling for him. But he’d _chosen_ to stop. That…that had to be a good thing. And maybe, in time, Yuuri would come to himself again, as he always had before. Until then, May decided, she would keep herself busy and generally avoid him. There was little she could do if he wouldn’t talk. She was too emotionally exhausted from all this, over the years, to feel like trying to soothe him. She just didn’t want to be sucked again into the cloud of blackness that now surrounded him.

“Hey, darlin’, you OK?” Jean asked her as she knelt and scrubbed next to her. “Somethin’ on your mind?”

She gave a small laugh and shook her head. “Nothing much. Well, you know…just my husband being moody. Even Taki’s wondering what’s gotten into him. I think I’d rather be here doing laundry all day than back there with him…like that.”

Rose made a clucking sound. “Well, anytime you want to come over here with Taki, you’re more than welcome. Sally thinks she’s a hoot. And it sounds like you could do with a break now and then, from the sound of it.”

“Clyde was like that for a while a few years back,” Annie mused, referring to her own husband. “He was goin’ down to the Ball and Chain several nights a week, gettin’ home so’s he could barely walk straight. I dunno…” She sighed. “Men. Stuff gets to ’em, an’ they look for an answer in a bottle, or they go out with the horses an’ cattle all day.” She chuckled. “We oughta ask ’em to take a turn doin’ the laundry like this. Sittin’ together all day havin’ a gas, they’d soon work through all their problems.”

“They’d probably just get drunk an’ shred the clothes on the washboards,” Jean said, and everyone laughed.

May was still chuckling as she picked up one of Yuuri’s blue plaid shirts and began to scrub. Her thoughts drifted for a while, to happier times when she’d been the town schoolteacher, and she’d field a hundred different questions every day from bright-eyed children eager to do something fun and interesting, which she’d always endeavored to plan. Around all the rote learning it was still important for them to do, of course. She’d never looked back once she’d gotten married, and Yuuri had asked her to help him run the ranch. But she couldn’t help but feel some nostalgia now for her old job. Taki was everything she’d hoped for, and more…but there was only one of her.

“You don’t say,” Jean gasped next to her. “Well, I never.”

“What’s she gonna do?” Rose asked.

Annie shook her head. “I’m not sure even she knows, yet.”

“What’d I miss?” May asked, looking up.

The other women glanced at each other, then Annie said, “On the topic of husbands. A friend of mine – or I guess you could call her a friend of a friend – has a husband who’s a banker. I was just sayin’ that he’d been goin’ on these supposed business trips to Arapaho for…well, I guess it was months. But a lady from Clearwater saw him on several occasions in a saloon there with a pretty girl on his arm, lookin’ real friendly with her, if you know what I mean.”

“What was this lady from Clearwater doin’ in a saloon in the first place, is what _I_ wanna know,” Jean mumbled.

“Um, she didn’t say,” Annie replied. “But word got around, here in town. Poor gal, bein’ thrown over for some floozy.”

May tutted, joining in the general condemnation of the wayward husband. Then her breath stuck in her throat and the color drained from her face.

“You _sure_ you’re all right?” Jean said with an expression of concern. “You don’t look so good.”

May scrabbled to pull the shirt out of the hot water and wrung it out as best she could, then tossed it into her basket on top of the dirty clothes she’d brought. “I need to go.”

“Why?” Rose asked, sharing in the worry for May’s sudden odd behavior. “What is it, honey? Somethin’ wrong? Can any of us do anything for you?”

“I…no. Sorry, Rose, but I…just remembered something. Um…can I leave Taki here for a while? I’ll be back for her later, or send someone for her. I…I just need to go.”

Rose got up and accompanied her back to her cart, carrying her basket for her and placing it inside. “If you wanna talk about it, you know where I am. Taki’ll be fine here. I’ll give her some lunch a little later.”

“Thank you.” May hugged her, then climbed onto the cart and picked up the reins, urging the horse forward. She’d soon left the Henderson ranch behind. Her own house wasn’t far, and she was too upset to try to pretend to Taki right now that nothing was wrong. Or to try to talk about it with a bunch of other women, no matter how well-meaning they were. Besides, if she opened her mouth, the gossip could soon be all over Clearwater. Rose was good at keeping things quiet; the other two, not so much.

Her mind spun as the horse walked along the rutted dirt path under the hot summer sun. Small clouds of dust puffed up from the wheels, and sweat dripped down the nape of her neck into the back of her blue cotton dress. She pulled a white handkerchief from a pocket over her thigh and wiped her forehead. Maybe the sweat wasn’t entirely due to the weather, she thought.

_I’ve been so blind…so stupid…so completely duped._

That was the reason why Yuuri had become more distant. Had been losing interest in sex, and in her. The awful mood he’d been in, like someone had died, since he’d stopped going to the cabin. And she’d been so trusting all this time that she’d never suspected.

He’d been having an affair with someone up there.

Probably only one person lived there, rather than a couple. _If_ he’d been going to a cabin at all.

But wait, that couldn’t be right. He _had_ been going to a cabin, because Taki had been there with him. And she’d met that man she’d called Vicky. Maybe Yuuri had been having it off with his sister or something. May doubted he was actually sharing his wife, though well…it was such an odd situation, who knew? Even though the details were impossible to guess, she felt sure she’d hit on the truth.

Her stomach lurched and her eyes filled with tears. She should go straight to the ranch, find out where he was, and confront him.

Or should she? Even though it had clearly pained him, he’s broken things off. He’d chosen May over this other woman. She’d asked him to stop going to the cabin, and he had; and it was far enough away that it would be impossible for him to sneak out and visit it. His absence would be obvious. Maybe…maybe things could be left at that. And in time, his feelings for the other woman would fade.

She knew, though, that she was simply being tempted into more wilful blindness. For this to have happened in the first place, something hadn’t been right in their relationship. What had driven him into another woman’s arms? What would stop him from finding someone else in the future, if he’d already cheated on her once? _Was_ it only the one time? The _lies_ he’d told her…

Yet again, she felt naïve and inexperienced in a situation that demanded she act with wisdom and understanding. How was she supposed to know what to do? Rose’s best advice, when May had tried to talk to her before, was that she should be thankful for what she had, because others had things worse. Well, she hadn’t realized by that point that Yuuri had been cheating on her.

As rattled as she was feeling inside, there was no hurry, though. The cabin visits were at an end. She would let things settle and see what felt like the right thing to do then.

One thing was sure, at least: the honest, loving man she’d thought she married didn’t exist.  

***

Several more days passed, and May kept her distance from Yuuri, though she still cooked food for him at mealtimes in the hope that he would eat. She caught herself staring at him occasionally, trying to reconcile what she’d realized about him with what she’d thought she’d known. He was still deeply upset, that much was clear; and God help her, her heart still went out to him. As much as she resented the way he’d treated her, it was awful to see him suffering like this. At least he was making an effort to keep things running at the ranch, and he still did things with Taki, even if he had little to say to herself or the ranch hands. He was never angry or aggressive in his moods; that just wasn’t the kind of person he was. He always seemed to turn pain inward, as if he were falling on his own sword. But when he withdrew like that, it seemed impossible to reach him. And here she was, still wishing she could. Despite everything he’d done.

One evening, after she and Taki had eaten dinner – Yuuri had said he wasn’t hungry – May was hovering in the kitchen doorway, wondering if she should sit down in the living room and join him. Taki was mixing up a muffin batter on her own, and May had told her to give a shout if she needed help. Yuuri was sitting in his chair with his back mostly to her, reading the local newspaper. She could work on some sewing for a while; she’d left a few items of clothing by her own accustomed chair that needed darning. But Yuuri said so little these days, she wasn’t sure if she could bear the dour silence while she sat there and worked. Usually they would at least chat about what had gone on at the ranch over the day and what Taki had been doing. She didn’t expect that now.

Yuuri suddenly sat up straighter and adjusted his glasses, peering at something on a two-page spread in the middle of his newspaper. May could just see part of his face at the angle she was looking from. He stared with his mouth slightly open at a collection of photos on the page, then his eyes dropped down to the article underneath. His lips moved as he read. Then he looked back up at the photos, heaving a broken sigh. Holding the newspaper with one hand, he ran his index finger lightly, slowly, over one of the photos, with a strange look in his eyes. May could only just hear what he whispered: “My Victor.” Then a couple of tears dropped onto the page.

He suddenly put the paper down on the coffee table and stood up – May ducked around the kitchen door so as not to be seen, though she peered surreptitiously around the frame – and pulled open the odds-and-ends drawer in the table, removing a pair of scissors. With these he cut out the article and one of the photos, then carefully folded them and tucked them into a vest pocket. She watched him hug his arms to his chest, and then he turned and disappeared out the front door.

May waited for a moment until she was sure he was gone. She glanced over at Taki, who was so involved with what she was doing that she didn’t seem to have noticed her mother’s unusual behavior, and then slowly walked into the living room, knowing she needed to look at that newspaper, yet dreading what she’d find. When she got to the table, she picked it up and took in what remained of the article: the headline across the top, and pictures of what looked like performers or actors in some kind of show.

“Bronco Billy’s Stars of the West, coming to Clearwater the sixteenth and seventeenth of August. Featuring the sharp-shooting skills of Three-fingered Jimmy and Lily of the Valley, and new this year, epic cowboys-and-Indians battle. Well-known performers, past and present, are shown below.” Yuuri had cut out the photo of one of these, along with whatever caption had been underneath, and the actual text of the article.

_Victor,_ May mused. _That’s what he said. The name in his glasses case._ It wasn’t exactly a common one in these parts.

So the engraving wasn’t referring to someone who had won something. Victor was a man. Someone who, once at least, had cared about Yuuri. And had presumably been a performer in a wild west show; possibly still was. Yuuri obviously had feelings for him, too. How did the two of them know each other? Were they relations? Perhaps Victor had been connected to Yuuri’s adoptive family in some way. Or…could this be something to do with Yuuri’s trick riding? Had the two of them once performed together?

“ _Your_ Victor. _My_ Victor,” she muttered to herself. “I don’t understand.”

What had gone on in those dark years that he refused to tell her about? Seeing the photo had brought Yuuri to tears, but that wasn’t anything unusual at the moment. Sometimes she noticed a tear running down his cheek after the slightest provocation, or even none at all, as far as she could tell.

For now, she figured, it would have to remain a mystery. Yet another one. Sometime she would have to talk to Yuuri about all these things he’d been hiding from her – and soon. Promise or no promise.

***

The next morning, she drove Taki and herself in the cart to town. They visited some of the stores, fed the ducks, and had a drink and a snack at the Hotel Dubois, where they said hello to Karen. Their last stop was at the general store, where May stocked up on and ordered provisions. She let Taki choose a lollipop, and was about to pay for her purchases when she noticed a stack of newspapers to the side on the counter.

“Is that this week’s paper?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” the shopkeeper, Tim Jenkins, answered brightly.

“I’ll take one, please. Can you stay here for just a minute?” she asked the rotund aproned man as he made to go elsewhere. He nodded and watched her curiously as she opened the paper on the counter to the two-page spread in the middle. Quickly scanning through the photos, she found the one she knew was missing from her own copy, and spotted the name ‘The Amazing Alexei’ underneath. Not Victor then, but this was obviously a stage name. He was sitting on a pale horse, a striking figure with floppy fair hair and a charming smile, looking every inch the performer. How odd that Yuuri had been mixed up with such a person. “Have you ever seen him?” she asked Mr. Jenkins on the off chance, pointing at the photo. Perhaps he’d been to a performance; she was pretty sure this show was the one that had been in town last year, in the spring.

“Hmmm.” He peered at the photo through the circular lenses of his glasses, rubbing his chin. “I can’t say for sure, Mrs. Katsuki, but he looks kinda like a guy who lives in the foothills and comes here once in a while to buy supplies. Sometimes he has them delivered. If it _is_ him, I guess it means we got somebody famous living around here. Wouldn’t that be something?”

“There can’t be many people who look like that,” May commented. “You say you think he lives around here and has been in your store?”

“Yeah…yeah, I’d say that’s him. Foreign-sounding fella. Haven’t seen him in a while though. I wish I could help you more – ”

“That’s OK, Mr. Jenkins. Thanks for your time.”

“Have a good day, Mrs. Katsuki. Taki.” He waved cheerily at the little girl, and she waved back.

“Here,” May said to her daughter when they got outside, “can you help carry some of these things?” She gave her a couple of the lighter bags, and they headed over to the corral, where she had left the horse and cart. They put the bags in the cart, and she untucked the newspaper from underneath her arm and examined it in more detail; she’d folded it open to the article in question. But it just seemed to contain basic information about current acts in the show.

“Do _you_ remember seeing him perform in the show you went to last year?” May decided to ask Taki, pointing out the photo to her.

She leaned over and looked. “Oh, that’s Vicky.” She giggled.

May felt the blood drain out of her face. “W-what did you say?” she whispered.

“Vicky. The man at the cabin. But when he’s in a show he’s called The Amazing Alexei. I can’t say his real name right. Vic…Vick – ”

“Victor,” May choked out.

“Yeah, that.” She looked up. “What’s wrong, Mommy?”

“H-he’s the one living at the cabin, who…who Daddy’s been going to see? Are…you sure, Taki?”

She laughed. “Course I’m sure. He looked just like that, and he’s The Amazing Alexei. He let me ride his horse after the show last year. The second show. We went twice.”

May took in a shuddering breath and let it back out again, tossing the newspaper into the cart and getting onto the seat, then gesturing weakly for Taki to do the same. “I never did ask you about your trip to the cabin,” she said. “I was busy, and…and your daddy…distracted me from it, I think,” she added quietly. “What kinds of things did you get up to there?”

Taki brightened and almost bounced as she said, “They did a show for me. Well, they _said_ it was a show, but it wasn’t really. They were practicing trick riding.” She beamed. “It was _great_ , Mommy – you should have seen! They somersaulted onto each other’s horses. But Daddy slipped off and fell. He was OK, though.”

And she’d assumed Taki had been exaggerating about all the tricks Yuuri could do. This wasn’t some casual hobby. The two of them _had_ performed together…and maybe had been doing so until recently. Leaving the cabin and traveling somewhere, perhaps…or training to do a show in the future. Until May had insisted Yuuri stop going up to the cabin. But if they had a show-business relationship, maybe there was a hope that nothing unseemly had been going on. After all, Yuuri knew how worried the trick riding made her. It was conceivable that he would sneak around behind her back for that reason alone, she guessed. Maybe she’d been leaping to ridiculous conclusions.

“Vicky let me help him cook, too. We made Russian pancakes.”

“That’s good.” She forced a smile.

“Daddy played his guitar and we all sang.”

“Ah, well, I know that’s one of your favorite things to do.”

“Vicky’s real nice. Daddy likes him a lot.”

May said nothing. She pressed her lips together and tried to grin, wondering what to ask next.

“Daddy even kissed him goodbye.”

May’s head jerked around, and she stared at Taki with wide eyes. “What,” she hissed.

Taki giggled again. “He didn’t think I saw, but I was peeking.”

“O-on the cheek, right? He kissed him on the cheek?”

“Nooo, Mommy,” Taki said in a voice indicating her frustration with her mother’s lack of intellect. “A _grown-up_ kiss on the lips.”


	72. Chapter 72

May let out a cry and turned her head to bury it in a shaking hand. Then she yanked the hand quickly to her side, and a sob escaped her. She looked away again and pulled her handkerchief out to wipe her face. A tremor shook her body. Taki was with her, and she was in the middle of town. She couldn’t break down here.

“Mommy, why are you crying?” Taki’s face was full of worry.

She swallowed and tried to string a sentence together. “M-men…don’t…kiss each other like that,” she insisted, as much for herself as for her daughter.

“But they did,” Taki said, as if she couldn’t comprehend why her mother was telling her that the opposite of what she’d seen was true. “Just like Daddy kisses you. Does that mean he loves both of you?”

May made an inarticulate noise somewhere between frustration and desperation, and wrung the handkerchief in her hands. “We need to get going,” she said quietly, and she pulled on the reins. The cart began to move, bumping them gently over the road. She had to ask. She didn’t want to, God knew, but she had to. “Taki, um…they…didn’t have a bed for you, did they? I mean, how did you all sleep, that night you were there?” She braced herself inwardly for the worst.

Taki shrugged, clearly not understanding why this was important enough for her mother to ask about. “There’s a bed in the cabin. Vicky said he just moved in from the other building, and there wasn’t any time for him ’til then to put a hay pile in. Daddy said he slept in the hay usually, but this time Vicky was nice ’cause I was there, so he let me and Daddy have the bed, and _he_ slept in the hay.”

It wasn’t the most articulate description, but May thought she understood well enough. _Yuuri, that’s so implausible, it’s pathetic._ But maybe he – or Victor, whichever one of them had made excuses up on the spot – had figured it would be enough for a little girl like Taki not to question. Handy, too, how this mysterious female other half of the supposed cabin couple seemed to have dropped out of the equation. She tried to stop seeing red for a moment; to swallow her anger and hurt and outrage. At least they hadn’t actually flaunted their…affair in front of Taki. Thank heaven for small mercies.

She just wanted to get back to the ranch as soon as possible and not have to think about any of this while Taki was with her. But…Yuuri might be there. And she didn’t know how she’d react upon seeing him at the moment. This was certainly not an issue Taki should be witnessing. When the road forked, she decided to take the turn that led to the Hendersons’ ranch. She’d leave Taki with them – _beg_ them if she had to – and then go to face Yuuri alone.

“Mommy, where are we going? This isn’t the way home.”

“I thought you might like to play with Sally for a while. I’ve got some things I need to go do. What do you reckon?” She tried to make her voice sound encouraging, but her smile was wavering.

“OK.”

Well at least Taki was not going to argue with her about that. It was getting harder, however, to keep up the façade for her daughter. She felt like someone had punched her in the stomach, and she was reeling. She simply did not want to believe the certainty forming in her mind about Yuuri’s visits to the mountains. But it was plain in front of her now, and there was no avoiding it. She was sure it had only been Victor living in that cabin, and no one else. If reason alone wasn’t enough for that conclusion, then there was the fact that the one time Taki had been there, Victor had been the only person present. It would have been as easy as you please just to say that the woman had gone somewhere for the weekend, because again, lying to a little girl – even one as smart as Taki – did not take any great skill.

And Yuuri’s glasses case…When she’d found it and seen the engraving inside, the thought had never crossed her mind that it could be connected with who Yuuri had been visiting at the cabin. He’d had that case _as long as she’d known him._ So if he was – God help them all – romantically involved with this Victor, it was something that had begun more than eight years ago, during that time Yuuri had been so secretive about. And no wonder. It seemed reasonable to assume that Yuuri and Victor had been apart for a long while, for whatever reason, and then Victor had shown up at the cabin, and Yuuri had started going there to see him. She wondered if there had even been a fire at all. Probably not. It sounded like another handy excuse – and to May’s shame, it was one that had worked with her for months.

_Oh my god. Yuuri’s been cheating on me…with a man._

She didn’t know how to begin to digest this. If that was how things were with him, and if he’d already had this…whatever-it-was going on with Victor before he’d met her, why had he married her? Why had he even shown any _interest_ in her to begin with? Where had he been before he’d come to Clearwater, and what had he been running away from? Had he been using her all along for some purpose only he understood? She couldn’t see how. And…he really did seem to care about her, at least at first. She didn’t think his dishonesty ran as far as that, if pure instinct was any judge. It was simply impossible to make any more headway through the confusing jumble of thoughts in her mind.

She held her tears back as the cart pulled up at the Hendersons’ house and Rose came out. Bless her, she was always willing to help, though she knew May would do the same for her. She saw that May was distraught again, and asked her if she wanted to come in and talk, but she politely refused and returned to the cart on her way to the Star and Bar. Talking to anyone apart from Yuuri himself wasn’t going to help now.

She wanted _answers_.

And if nothing else, she wanted him to understand how he’d made her feel. What he’d done to her. To all three of them.           

***

Yuuri rode Biscuit in from the range along with Pat and several of the other ranch hands, stabled her, and wandered out past the corral. They’d spent the morning and part of the afternoon scouting out the whereabouts of a herd of mustangs and planning how to catch some of them without spooking or causing them harm. They were magnificent creatures, and when he’d set eyes on them, Yuuri had felt his heart lift a little, for a while. It was a hot day, though, and sitting inside the shade of the house with a drink of water appealed; the paperwork he needed to look at, not so much. Maybe he’d grab some crackers or something to stop his stomach from rumbling. He tended to forget these days if or when he’d last eaten.

He walked into the house and hung his Stetson on a peg, then headed into the kitchen. May was sitting in a chair at the dining table, reading a newspaper. He was about to mumble a hello, when he saw her blazing eyes as she looked up at him. His words stuck in his throat. She looked like a schoolteacher about to discipline an entire classroom.

She put the paper down and stood up, as if she’d been mentally rehearsing her actions. He blenched inwardly, wondering what had upset her so much.

“Yuuri,” she said in a firm voice, “who is Victor?”

He gave an involuntary gasp. Why that name? He decided to try to stick to what he knew she already knew, and take this from there. _Jesus_ , he thought, his mouth going dry. “He’s the person who gave me the glasses case,” he said as lightly as he could. “Why?”

“He’s also the person you’ve been visiting at that cabin. Isn’t he?”

Yuuri’s eyes widened, and he felt the blood drain from his face. He worked his mouth to form a reply, but couldn’t think what to say. How had she found out? How much did she know? “One of them, yes,” he managed to get out.

May’s eyes narrowed. “The _only_ one. There’s no woman up there, is there? There never was.”

“May – ”

She sighed and sat back down in her chair, indicating that she wanted him to do the same. He pulled one out opposite to her across the table and half-sat, half-fell into it, feeling like he’d been pitched from one nightmare into another.

“Let me tell you what I know, since that’ll save both of us the trouble of having to sit through more lies – you making more of them up, and then trying to feed them to me,” she said in a voice that was still disconcertingly firm. “I know it’s Victor you’ve been visiting at the cabin. That he lives there on his own. That he’s someone from your past who you used to perform with. That you both…”

She began to falter, and took a moment to collect herself, taking a shaky breath. Yuuri just sat and watched her in horror.

“That the two of you are…very friendly with each other.” She picked up the paper, quickly folded it to the two-page spread so that Victor’s picture was face up, and tossed it across the table to him. He glanced at it, then looked back up at her in shock. “Taki recognized him as the man she’d met at the cabin when she went there with you. She recognized his name when I said it, too, though it doesn’t take much intelligence to work out that ‘Vicky’ is ‘Victor’. And…”

Yuuri could see her trembling as she struggled to carry on. _Jesus,_ he thought again. _Is this really happening?_  

“…and Taki saw the two of you kissing.”

Yuuri read the anger, accusation and hurt on her face as plain as day. “Oh god,” he whispered.

“I take it you didn’t know. ‘A grown-up kiss on the lips’ was what she said. Apparently you were saying goodbye, and she snuck a peek.” She stared at him. “Careless of you, wasn’t it?” she added quietly.

Once Yuuri had seen a lepidopterist’s case in a museum; it had been full of butterflies pinned neatly in rows for display. Right now he felt like one of those, only he was living, and May had stuck the pin straight in. No matter how much he decided to struggle, she had skewered him with the truth he’d been hiding all this time, and there was no escape. But then…maybe it was time to stop running anyway.

And it _had_ been careless of him to kiss Victor in front of Taki, even if he’d thought at the time that her attention had been elsewhere. Just like it had been careless of him to leave his glasses case out for May to pick up and examine. Almost as if, on some level, he _wanted_ her to know, and had been unconsciously trying to force the issue. But he would never have wanted it to happen like this. He looked at her with weary resignation, his arms hanging loose at his sides.

“At least you’re not trying to deny it.” The composed look she’d achieved while holding his gaze suddenly fell away like the mask it obviously had been, and she broke into tears, then buried her face in her hands.

Yuuri’s stomach sank. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so guilty and ashamed. After a moment, she pulled her hands down to fold them in her lap and stared at him again, her eyes red-rimmed, her face wet and full of pain.

“I used to think you were…the _sweetest_ , most genuine person I’d ever met. I don’t know how I could’ve been so wrong.” When Yuuri began to reply, she waved a hand angrily, and he fell quiet. “I…I just can’t understand any of this. _Why?_ And…how _could_ you? To me, to…to Taki? It took me this long to figure it all out because I never would’ve believed it of you…I trusted you!” She shook with more sobs.

Yuuri felt a tear slide down his own cheek. He hadn’t wanted to think about how he’d been hurting May all this time. Had hoped he’d…been fooling her. What kind of person had he become?

“And with a _man_ , no less.” She glanced up at the ceiling and rubbed her eyes, sniffling. Then she looked at him again and said flatly, “You love him, don’t you. That…that’s why you’ve been so upset since your last visit to the cabin. You broke up with him. And you love him.”

Yuuri looked down and gave a thin sigh, then nodded. He didn’t see any point in correcting the nuances of her statement that weren’t quite right; it was close enough to the truth. “He left. W-we won’t be seeing each other again.”

After a pause, May said softly, “You love him, and you let him go?”

He started in surprise at her words.

“Yuuri…maybe you ought to think about how you’ve been treating the people you say you love.”

His eyes widened. Something inside of him was telling him that this was one of the most important things anyone had ever said to him. He was temporarily filled with awe, and humility – because it had taken one of the people he’d loved and hurt to point out the obvious.

“But,” she added, “if you think that breaking it off with Victor makes however many months you were cheating on me with him OK – ”

“May,” he interrupted, “no, I don’t think that. What I did, it…I’m not going to try to defend it, because it _wasn’t_ OK. But…maybe it’s time you heard the truth. All of it. Though, um…it’s a long story.”

She blinked, then sat back in her chair, crossed her arms over her chest, and regarded him steadily, sniffing one more time. “Taki’s at the Hendersons’. And I’m not going anywhere.” She fell silent and looked at him expectantly.

_Why not begin at the beginning, then,_ he thought. _She may as well know everything._ “I was about seven years old when I was adopted by Hank and Eva Taylor, who own the Rafter T ranch outside of Larkspur. I don’t know if you’ve heard of the place…”

He didn’t dwell long on the distant past; just dipped into it enough to give her an idea of his roots, his background. Something it probably would have done no harm to tell her about early on, though he’d been so full of fear and painful memories that he’d wanted to…well, almost pretend, even to himself, that it hadn’t happened, he supposed. He moved on to explaining a little about who Victor was, how they’d met, and the apprenticeship at the Circle C. The trick riding. He was walking now through the landscape of the most precious memories of his life – those months they’d fallen in love and spent on the ranch together. But he was talking to May, and so he did his best not to elaborate on them or how he’d felt at the time, and just stick to facts. He suspected he still betrayed many of his emotions as he narrated, however, particularly when he got to the point where it was time to tell her about getting caught together and what had happened afterward.

She’d been quiet and still the whole time, simply listening, her eyes often flicking to his face and back down to the table. But now she said, “This is when it happened, isn’t it? Whatever pulled the two of you apart. I can tell it’s making you upset.” She shook her head and gave a mirthless laugh. “God knows _you’ve_ upset _me_ enough. But if you don’t want to tell me about it, that’s OK. I think I can guess how things went.”

Yuuri rested his arms on the table in front of him and linked his fingers together, staring at them. “I’d like to tell you. It’s…um, well…I guess I’d just like you to know. Maybe it’ll help you understand where I’ve been coming from all this time, if nothing else.” He sighed and wiped away a tear. Swallowed. God, this was hard. “We were seen together, um…in a compromising situation. The details aren’t important. A posse with a deputy came for us one night; they knew by then where to find us…”

It all came out. What he and Victor went through at the hands of the Taylors and the posse. How they were separated, the attempted rescue, and how Yuuri was certain Victor had been killed. Fleeing north from the tracker dog, and arriving in Clearwater to try to start over. He thought perhaps May’s expression softened a little as she listened.

“When I got here,” he said, “I swear I only had the best of intentions. I’d been given some money before I left Larkspur, and I used that to buy the ranch and start fixing it up. And I met you, and…” His voice lowered and quietened. “…I honestly loved you, May, just like I said. I thought you were kind, smart, and pretty. I wanted to marry you and live with you here at the ranch and start a family.” The ghost of a smile briefly flitted across her face. “I had no idea Victor was still alive. He didn’t know where I’d gone. No one in Larkspur did.” He decided it best not to mention the real reason for his trip to St. Louis, and moved on. “We met again when…well, it was that day I went hunting for the bear, because Taki had ruined the rug in front of the fireplace, if you remember. I never told you this either, but I…I got caught in a snowstorm up there, and fell into the river, and…um. Victor heard my gunfire – he was living up there; I didn’t know – and he came to see what was going on. He saved my life.” He hoped she wouldn’t ask what Victor was doing there in the first place, because that was something he thought ought to stay private between themselves.

She thankfully seemed to decide not to pursue the point, and just said, “I see.”

“I didn’t know what to do.” He shook his head and fiddled with his fingers. “I tried to carry on with everything as usual, at first. But then there was the fire – ”

“There _was_ a fire?”

“Yeah, there really was a fire.” He tried to keep any trace of annoyance out of his voice; he figured, with a quick stab of guilt, that he’d told her so many lies, she didn’t know what to believe anymore. “He wasn’t hurt, but the cabin had all but burned down, just like I told you. And…” He bit his lip. There really was no reason to lie to her now. “…I knew I still loved him. As much as I ever did. Nothing had changed between us. So I started going there to help him rebuild the cabin, and one thing led to another – ”

May’s expression turned into one of disgust. “All right, I don’t want to hear any more about that.” He fell silent, and she also sat quietly, gazing down. “Look, Yuuri,” she said eventually, “I’m truly sorry about all the suffering you went through. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. But I feel… _offended_. Like I’ve been taken advantage of.” Her eyes met his. “From the start; by you. Because you never told me you’d…been…with a man. Why?” When he started to reply, she waved a hand. “That’s a _rhetorical question,_ Yuuri – because I know the answer. You obviously assumed I would have no more interest in you if you’d been open with me. But that wasn’t rightly your decision to make, was it? It was _mine_ , and you robbed me of that chance. I married you in ignorance.”

“I know I – ”

“Just let me talk, goddamn it,” she said, shifting in her seat.

Yuuri remained silent, and felt himself shake. He removed his hands from the table and gripped the sides of his chair, wishing this long, painful conversation could just come to an end. But he knew it was his fault they were having it.

“And you know what? You were right.” She heaved a sigh. “I can’t say I approve of what that posse did to you in…in Larkspur. That was deplorable. No human being should be treated like that. But it doesn’t mean I approve of…what you were doing, either. I’m sorry, but that’s just how I feel. You made that choice of lifestyle; you should be willing to live with the consequences.”

“Choice?” Yuuri said a little heatedly. He told himself to stay calm. A fine mess he’d make if he added a blazing argument to the hurt he’d already caused. And yet he wasn’t willing to stand by while that fundamental part of himself and his life was…trivialized; invalidated. “Falling in love with Victor wasn’t a choice. It just happened. And…May, I was grieving for him for _years_ , and there wasn’t a single person here I could tell about it. Do you know what it’s like to lose someone like that?”

She stared at him, looking somewhat abashed. “No,” she said quietly.

“And now I’m grieving, again.” He breathed a shuddering sigh and felt a few more tears escape. “I…I didn’t want any of these things to happen. I never wanted you to get caught in the middle. I really thought Victor was dead; I thought I could leave my past behind. So…you know, should it have mattered that I chose not to tell you about it? What…bearing did it have on your life, or our relationship, here and now?”

“Don’t you see?” She made a little humph of irritation. “I never really knew you. You never gave me the chance. And you decided not to tell me when Victor turned up, either. You seem to think it’s OK to hide everything from people. Like…like that’s not the same as lying.” Her tone became more emphatic as she added, “A husband and wife are supposed to be honest with each other, and you failed in that respect from the start. Look how easily the lies came to you – even when you walked in today and I asked you who Victor was, until you realized it was no use pretending.”

Yuuri rested his forehead in a hand. He had no words left. Being lectured like this was awful – but she was right, of course.

She seemed to have an idea of what he was thinking, because she said, “I don’t see how it would do any good to sit here all day and tear into you. I…that’s not what I want. I just hope you can understand.” She paused. “I’m never going to be able to trust you again. And whenever I look back on the time we’ve been together, I won’t ever know for sure how to separate what I believed from what the reality was. Maybe…one day, I might find a way to forgive you for that; I don’t know. And then all this with Victor…I could tell things weren’t good between you and me for a while anyway, and now the reason’s clear. You say he’s gone, but…I don’t see how things can be put right between us.” She paused again as her voice hitched, and she let out some sobs. Yuuri was crying quietly as well, his forehead still propped against his hand. She added, “Are you even _interested_ in sex with a woman, or is it men you prefer?” As he raised his head to look at her, she quickly carried on, “Oh god, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know. Yuuri…” Her shoulders shook as she continued to cry. “…I loved you, but I don’t think I could ever feel that way about you again. And…and…god only knows what Taki’s going to make of this – now; when she’s older…” She shook her head and then put it in her hands. 

Yuuri wasn’t sure it would hurt any more than this to be seared by a red-hot poker. He wiped his face with his handkerchief and thought it must be his turn to say something. God, he hadn’t even apologized. He owed her that at the very least. “May,” he said quietly, “I just want to say I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through. And that _is_ the truth. I don’t expect you to change your mind about anything you’ve said; I…I think I understand it all, and I don’t blame you. I should’ve told you about Victor before I married you, and let you decide – and if you’d said no, that would’ve been your right. But…if you _had_ found it in your heart to say yes, then if I’d told you everything about my past, maybe like you say, things would’ve been better between us. Maybe we would’ve been closer. I never thought about it that way before.” He raked a hand through his hair and added after a pause, “It’s been disrespectful and selfish, the way I’ve treated you. I’m not making excuses, but…I just hope you can understand how hard it was for me to try to make good decisions, especially once Victor came back. I know I didn’t do very well.” He rested his forehead in his hand again. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so exhausted in his life.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “That means something, that you’ve said that. But…I can’t stay with you anymore, after all this. I hope you can understand that, too.”

He pressed his lips together and nodded.

“I think it’s best if I go to stay at the Hendersons’ with Taki for a while…give you and me both some time to think about what we want to do with our futures.”

“Yeah.”

He stayed where he was and shook with silent sobs as he listened to the sounds of May hastily packing a bag, then the front door opening and closing.

He was alone.


	73. Chapter 73

_Here I am again, asking questions_  
_Waiting to be moved_  
_I am so unsure of my perception_  
_What I thought I knew I don’t seem to_  
_Where is the turn so I can get_  
_Back to what I believe in?_  
_Back to the old me and_

_God, please hear my call_  
_I am afraid for me_  
_Love has burned me raw I need your healing_  
_I need your healing_

                         _Jill Scott,_ [_Hear My Call_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VtapoGukzCA)

 

There was no word from May over the next few days, nor did she return. Yuuri went through the motions of daily life on the ranch; tried to take comfort in routine as much as he could. But he hated being in the house, which suddenly seemed so large, and empty, and quiet. Taki’s high-pitched laughter, her excited cries of “Daddy!” when she saw him, the way she would sing to herself sometimes as she walked busily around doing things only a little girl could understand…Yuuri missed it so much that he ached all over. Sometimes all he could do was sit down and cry. His tears over the past several weeks could rival the Mississippi River, he reckoned. The ranch hands knew something was up – it was impossible for him to completely hide how he was feeling; but he just told them that May had taken Taki to visit a neighbor for a while. He doubted they believed that was all there was to it, but he didn’t care.

Occasionally he was tempted toward the whiskey bottle. But he had a feeling that if he allowed himself a little, then once he’d started, he might not be able to stop. And he knew the pain would still be there while he was drunk, and afterward. If there was only some relief to be had…

He was sitting in a leather chair in the living room late in the afternoon, staring at the empty fireplace, when the realization suddenly came to him that maybe there _was_ some relief, though he hadn’t consciously been aware of it until now. Since his talk with May, the pain had been different; something inside of him had shifted. He felt…a little lighter, somehow. Like there’d been a break in the clouds. Maybe having the truth out like this, now, was better than the lie he’d been living.

Yes…that was it. He’d hated himself for _years_ for all the omissions, and then the outright falsehoods. When May had spelled this out to him, he’d already been aware of it. She hadn’t been remedying his ignorance so much as dragging long-buried issues into the open. All that weight on his shoulders was now gone – though the cost was going to be terrible. He’d just lost his family…after losing Victor. What _would_ Taki make of it? How many times would he actually get to see her again in his life? What was May telling her right now?

His tears made soft pings as they landed on the leather armrest of his chair. He had a permanent headache from crying. His chest was sore, his eyes were red, his cheeks were blotchy. He could feel it, even if he didn’t want to look in a mirror. The house was oppressive in its silence.

He went to the kitchen and drank a large glass of water, splashing a little in his eyes and then drying his face. There seemed no point in cooking anything for dinner later. He’d been dipping into the old trail standbys that took no effort, when the rumbling in his stomach called too much attention to itself – handfuls of dried fruit, hardtack, jerky.

Wanting to feel the breeze on his skin, he went out to the front porch and stood against a pillar, resting his hands on the fence. He’d told himself he wouldn’t listen to that self-deprecating voice inside him, but he honestly felt no better than the muck scraped off somebody’s boot. He’d handled things so badly, and now he’d lost everyone he’d cared about, forcing Victor and May to make decisions he should have made himself. He deserved to be on his own. So said the voice. And it was hard to argue with it.

A few of the ranch hands were riding out to the west, silhouetted against the sun as they swung their lassos; and Yuuri was suddenly reminded of a similar scene years ago, when he had longingly gazed from a hilltop down at Victor doing the same, and everything ahead had been a promise. Just the thought of him, if not the physical reality, was the brightest thing in his life right now, in the midst of the swamp that kept trying to suck him under. Yuuri needed him…or whatever he had left of him.

He would ride out to the empty cabin. If he was going to be alone, he’d rather be alone there than here. It was as close to Victor as he was going to get. There would be memories, if nothing else. Maybe it would soothe him for a while. And if someone else was living there now? So be it. He’d take that chance. 

He went to saddle up Biscuit. 

*** 

He took his time on the familiar path, passing well-known landmarks and stopping at the halfway point as usual to stretch and let his horse have a drink. They were soon surrounded by stately pine trees and clusters of white-barked aspens as the path turned up into the foothills, and the breeze freshened, tugging lightly at the brim of his Stetson. The ground was hard and dusty under its thin carpet of pine needles from the warm, dry summer.

It was already better than being at the ranch. Yuuri felt cocooned by the trees and undulating hills and cliffs. Out on the range you were exposed, able to see for miles in any direction. Here the earth enfolded you.

He’d never traveled this path – at least in this direction – without looking forward to seeing Victor; and it was as if that warm, fizzing anticipation still lingered along the way for him to pick up on, like a dissipating trail of scent. He felt his heart ease a bit as he traveled and the sun dipped lower, throwing a golden glow over the leaves of the aspens. After a while, he reined Biscuit to a halt on a slope where the trees thinned out, providing a vista of layered pine-covered hills and white and gold cliffs, and in the distance high blue mountains, some of them with enclaves of snow clinging to the shadows as they defied the August heat. It all seemed so much bigger and grander than anything that could be troubling a little speck on top of a horse here on a hill. The mountains had endured for millennia, despite all the doings of humankind in and around them, and would endure for many more.

Preferring to complete his journey before the dark of night, Yuuri guided Biscuit back on her way up the path, the shadows of the trees lengthening until they blanketed the ground. His thoughts turned again to where he was headed, and a tear escaped and ran down his cheek. The evening breeze blew against it, making a cold trail against his skin. He brushed it away with the back of his hand.

Maybe going to the cabin like this wasn’t the best way of dealing with things. What was he going to do – sit there in the dark empty room by the light of a lantern and cry? But what else could he do that was any better? The ghost of Victor was ahead; the ghosts of May and Taki behind. The former seemed to hold some crumbs of comfort, even if it was only an echo of what had been and gone.

_Maybe going back there will only remind me of what I’ve lost. Maybe it’ll actually make me feel worse._

Well, he was almost there now. He’d find out soon enough.

May’s words came back to him: _You love him, and you let him go?_

Yuuri could drop everything and travel, trying to find him. Comb through all the wild west shows…if that was possible. Though some of them traveled around the world, he’d heard. He couldn’t cover this whole country, let alone go to others. Even his own substantial determination wouldn’t enable him to accomplish that.

And Victor had specifically told him not to try. Because he knew, otherwise, that Yuuri _would._

The sky was beginning to pink into a sunset as he rode up the final hill, as he had so many times before. He felt a fluttering in his stomach, born no doubt of his previous trips when he had been looking forward to being in Victor’s arms. Maybe…maybe he’d left behind a few small pieces of furniture, at least. It might be possible to get one of the stools back to the ranch on Biscuit, somehow. If there was more here, he could come back for it with the cart…when he got it back from May.

He sighed and dismounted, walking with Biscuit to the crest of the hill. The first thing he saw was the cabin in front of him, sitting in the dimming light of day, with no friendly glow in the windows to greet him as he was accustomed. The only sound to be heard was the soughing of the pine boughs. Yuuri felt his stomach drop, bit back more tears, and made a move to take Biscuit to the stable, when he suddenly noticed a small scattering of wooden crates on the porch of the cabin and some shadowed items of furniture that appeared to be chairs. He couldn’t be sure from over here, but they looked…

Suddenly the door to the stable opened and Victor emerged, carrying his saddlebags, which he dropped to the ground in surprise as he spotted Yuuri. They stared at each other.

Yuuri’s heart gave an almighty leap.

Beyond all hope…

It was Victor who spoke first. “Yuuri…I’ve, um, been planning on leaving since the last time we talked. It just…took me a while to find whatever it was I needed inside of me to get going. Just about ready now.” The stunned look was still there on his face, but it was mixed with wariness – and sadness underneath it all, in the depths of his eyes.

Yuuri couldn’t stop the tears from coming. But this time the nature of them was utterly different. He was crying in relief; in sheer joy. “You’re still here,” he breathed.

“Yeah,” Victor said simply. Many emotions flashed across his face, almost too quick to register. He looked pleased to see Yuuri for a moment, but then the wariness returned. Confusion. Pain. Yuuri tried to imagine what might be going through his head. Was he wondering why Yuuri had come back? Maybe…afraid that he was going to drag them both through more agony, only for nothing to change?

_No, Victor. It’s going to be different this time. I’m finally going to get it right. If…if you’ll just let me try. I haven’t had the chance to rehearse anything, but I think I’ve figured some things out at least._

He took some deep breaths and cleared his throat. “She’s gone, Victor. May. She…she found out about you and me. By accident. It’s kind of a long story how, but…well, I don’t suppose it matters.”

After a pause, Victor said quietly, “Oh. I…I’m sorry.” His eyes continued to regard him steadily; uncertainly.

“I didn’t know you were still here…well, I guess you gathered that.”

“So…why did you come?”

Yuuri glanced at the buildings that surrounded them, then back at Victor. “I, um…I’m not even sure myself. I guess, after everything that happened, I wanted…I don’t know, to catch something of your spirit left in the place, maybe. Or just…just be with memories for a while.”

Victor remained silent. They were both standing here in the clearing as the sun went down, arms at their sides, looking for all the world like two gunfighters who were waiting for each other to draw. It was so completely _wrong_ , Yuuri thought. He already felt threadbare from the emotional upheaval of the past weeks; from his disastrous conversation with May; from so many things. But if anything was worth digging deep for, to find the last vestiges of strength within him, it was this.

After taking a moment to decide where to start, he said, looking levelly at Victor, “I deserved what happened, the way I treated May. But I know now that I didn’t treat you any better; if I’d just been willing to look, I would’ve seen it before…before…” His voice trailed off, but he forced himself to find it again. “All those times I said I love you – but I, um, I wasn’t acting like it. I _knew_ I was hurting you, and…I still carried on. I’m sorry you ended up living like this, so…so alone. When Luchik was sick, and when you were, before I got here…it must have been awful for you. And all I could think about was what _I_ wanted from _you_ , despite all that. Hoping you’d put up with it.” He shook his head and sighed. “You deserve so much better. I…I treated you like a…a caged bird. Something beautiful that was mine to keep. So you couldn’t…I don’t know. Spread your wings and fly. I’m making a mess of this,” he muttered, looking down.

After a moment, he heard, “But that was _my_ choice, Yuuri.”

His eyes shot back up to meet Victor’s. “You _wanted_ to be caged?”

“If that was the only way to be with you? Yes, I wanted to try.”

“Oh,” he breathed. “Um…but it didn’t work out very well.”

“No.” Victor looked like he wanted to say more, but then closed his mouth.

Yuuri broke the silence by continuing, “I’ve, uh…had a lot of time to think about all the mistakes I’ve made. I never dreamed I’d get the chance to apologize to you, and explain, but…well, I guess it’s taken me a long time to learn some lessons. Like what’s really important in life. When we were at the Circle C, it took me so long to push all that other stuff aside – what I felt I owed the Taylors, what you and I would do for a living if we left the ranch together, how we’d always have to be so secretive about our relationship, how I’d never have kids – that by the time I could see my way through it all, it was…it was…” He swallowed. “…too late.”  

“We couldn’t have known if or when that was going to happen,” Victor said.

“But we _do_ know that if we’d acted sooner, we probably would’ve been OK.” Yuuri paused and sighed, fidgeting with a strap on Biscuit’s saddle. “And then here… I guess it was a sense of duty, even more than love, that made me feel it was so important to stay with May. Um…as her husband, I felt responsible for her. I guess, deep down, I was afraid that if I left her, she’d end up like Clarissa.” He hastened to add, “But I should’ve realized that she wouldn’t – that I had the power to make sure of that. Hell, I’d _give_ her everything on the ranch, if I had to. And there’s Taki, too.” He took a steadying breath. “Well, I can’t honestly say that it isn’t going to be hard. But…I’ll never stop loving my little girl.” Despite his best efforts, his voice wobbled at the end of the sentence. “I-I’ll carry on showing it to her as best I can, even if…even if she ends up hundreds of miles away.”

Victor had suddenly become more animated. He shook his head. “It’s my fault you ended up in that situation,” he said. “I’m so sorry, Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s heart swelled in his chest. He was determined to take responsibility for his own part in the mess that had occurred, and was not out to try to make Victor feel guilty. “I don’t want you to have any regrets,” he said emphatically, “because I _want_ you in my life. I’ve told you enough times before – as long as you’re on this earth, living and breathing, I want to be with you. And…when I didn’t know you still were, you came back to me. I wouldn’t have wanted things any other way.”

Victor let out a shaky breath. “Yuuri…” he began uncertainly. “…it was still a selfish, foolish thing for me to do, coming anywhere near you. You’ve…” His voice broke. “…you’ve lost your family because of me. I was hoping it wasn’t too late to prevent that from happening – that’s why…why I said what I did, the last time you were here.”

“But you decided for us both, a-and I think you got it wrong,” Yuuri replied quickly. His words had the desired effect, as Victor looked taken aback. He added, “When I think about how close we might have been to getting what we wanted this time…well, if I’d learned my lesson about not dragging my feet when I’ve got an important decision to make, it might’ve helped.” Victor’s eyes widened, and he went on to explain, “Um, May and I had had an argument about my visits here, and I knew I was out of time anyway, so I’d already been planning to discuss what to do about the future with you. That last time I came to visit, I was at least _considering_ telling you what I should’ve told you – should’ve decided – the day I woke up in your cabin and found out you were alive after all. That…that I’d choose you above everyone and everything. That what I wanted, more than anything else, was to be with you. No matter what it took. If that meant leaving May, I should’ve explained the situation to her and let everyone move on from there, because there was never going to be a way of saving people from getting hurt as it was. What I did instead…it just made everything worse. Though would you believe I actually convinced myself it was how people would be hurt the _least_?” He shook his head and looked down, shame welling back up inside. After a moment, he steeled himself and forced his eyes to meet Victor’s again. “Then when you…broke up with me, I knew I _had_ to tell you, but you were so…how do I put it? Determined. Insistent. My own stubbornness deserted me when I needed it most.”

Victor put a hand over his mouth, looking stricken. Yuuri waited, and eventually he removed his hand and said, very quietly, “You’re right, Yuuri. I guess I was afraid that if I didn’t do it that way, I wouldn’t…wouldn’t have found the strength to follow through. But I should’ve given you a chance to talk to me, and listened to what you had to say. At least asked. If only I had, then…” He swallowed and took a deep breath, considering for a moment, then continued, “Maybe I should’ve told you a while back how I was feeling. But it was hard to think of a way to do that, because I didn’t want to push you into leaving your family. I loved seeing you when you came up here, but…the other days could be…difficult, sometimes. It sounds like maybe you understand, now. So by telling you I was going away, and that I didn’t want you to follow me, I was hoping to help us both. But…I didn’t help either of us, did I?”

“Well, maybe in a way you did,” Yuuri replied softly. “I knew that if you were so determined to leave, I must’ve _really_ hurt you. I spent a lot of time thinking about that.” He flinched as those terrible feelings he’d been fighting with since the last time he’d been here threatened to resurface. Yuuri prayed he would not leave here feeling that way again; that somehow he was managing to succeed in healing the breach between them. He gave a shaky sigh and carried on in a small voice, “Victor…I don’t know how to describe how upset I’ve been since I thought I’d seen you for the last time. You told me to go and be with my family, but…it felt like everything had turned gray. I…haven’t been eating much. Nothing seemed to matter anymore.” He paused. “I…I was given a second chance to be with the most wonderful person in the world – something I never dared to hope for – and it slipped right through my fingers. Nothing, _nothing,_ hurts more than that. And all I should’ve done was listen to what was in my heart and find the courage to let it guide me.” He sniffed and wiped at his eyes. “Simple, huh?”

“Yuuri,” Victor whispered.

As the evening breeze softly fanned and cooled his cheeks, Yuuri took in the sight of Victor in the deepening pinks and lilacs of the sky, which brushed his hair and shirt with their pastel hues. And those blue eyes that you could lose yourself in…the eyes that maybe, just maybe, were telling him, _I love you still._ He had to believe that they were, because what he was working himself up to say next depended on it.

“You know how I said earlier that I lost sight of what’s really important in life? It’s _you_ , Victor,” he said in a trembling voice. “Always you.” He paused and blinked, watching Victor do the same. “And…if it’s not too late to say this, after everything that’s happened…what’s best for me is being with you. If you’ll still have me. There’s nothing on earth I want more. And…what do you think is best for yourself? Anything – just name it. Maybe…might it include…finding it in your heart to forgive me?”

Victor looked at him searchingly for a long moment, while Yuuri felt himself quivering in nervous anticipation. Then Victor strode forward and gently took Yuuri’s Stetson off, hanging it from Biscuit’s saddle horn. Next he removed the bandanna from around his own neck with slow deliberation – with a start, Yuuri realized it was his blue one he’d given him – and tied it around Yuuri’s.

“There, that’s where it belongs,” Victor said quietly, looking into his eyes. “Yuuri. My Yuuri. From the day I met you, I…I just wanted to be with you.” Yuuri hardly dared to breathe. “That’s never changed. I want to spend my days and nights with you. Wake up next to you every morning. Be a couple, living our lives together. Taking care of each other. I always thought it seemed like a lot to ask, but…I’m asking now.” He added earnestly, just above a whisper, “Stay with me, my love, and never leave.”

Yuuri’s cheeks flushed, a dozen different emotions rushing through him in a wave. He put a hand to his bandanna and clutched it, returning Victor’s gaze. In that moment he had the sense he was looking straight into Victor’s heart – open and unadorned, as perhaps he hadn’t seen it since those days at the shepherd’s hut when he’d nursed him back to health. Then, Victor had had no choice but to allow Yuuri access to the raw essence of what lay deep inside. But now…now here he was, standing in front of Yuuri and placing it in his hands.

He knew there was no greater gift he could receive.

“I will,” he said with every ounce of conviction inside him. “Always. _Aishiteru_ , Vitya.”

Victor gently cupped a palm to his cheek, and Yuuri did the same in return. Yuuri’s other hand lightly caressed its way up the front of Victor’s shirt and came to rest on his shoulder. Victor smoothed the bangs away from Yuuri’s face. Yuuri could hear Victor’s breaths. His own fingers shook as he traced the backs of them, feather-light, across Victor’s jaw.

Slowly, almost tentatively at first, they embraced and tilted their heads forward for a kiss, soft and exploratory. Then Yuuri pressed his lips more firmly against Victor’s and tightened his hold. Soon they were gripping each other so hard that Yuuri felt as if they were trying to fuse together. He exhaled through his nose, feeling tears slip down his cheek. Then he was burying his face in the crook of Victor’s neck, muttering Victor’s name over and over as he took in the familiar, wonderful scents of rose soap and Victor himself. They rocked slightly together in a gentle rhythm as Yuuri kissed Victor’s neck. Victor cupped the back of his head while he kissed his hair, speaking Russian in a broken voice, drawing gusty breaths between kisses. Yuuri let it wash over him, the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Victor said into his hair, his tone thin and wavering, betraying feelings that had clearly been locked within him for some time and were now finding release. “All those days I spent here…I _would_ have gone eventually – soon – but…I think I know what you meant about wanting to catch the spirit that was left here, or being with memories.” His voice hitched, and he choked back a sob. “I…I would rather have been here with those, than anywhere else…it was so hard…I never wanted to do that to you. God, Yuuri, I love you so much.”

“Victor…oh, Victor,” Yuuri continued to whisper against his neck. They held each other tightly for a long time.

Years ago, Yuuri had believed he’d lost Victor for good; that he’d gone where he couldn’t follow. And even after they’d been reunited, it had always felt as if the life he wanted with Victor was just out of reach. But, Yuuri thought in blessed gratitude as he glanced up at the blazing sky above the mountains, that didn’t have to be the way things stayed. Because if you traveled far enough or waited long enough, on the other side of the sunset, through the darkness of night, was another dawn. And so everything would come full circle, as it always does; and yesterday’s crushed dreams would evaporate like the dew, with the promise of a new beginning.

Yuuri didn’t know what, if anything, he’d done to deserve a third chance with Victor, but he said yes to it with every fiber of his being.

And this time, they were going to make the best of it. Together.   

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love chatting with fellow writers and YOI fans. Find me on Tumblr [here.](https://kitsunebi-uk.tumblr.com)


End file.
